


Queen of Swords

by Mictecacihuatl



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 21,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3441791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mictecacihuatl/pseuds/Mictecacihuatl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been ten years since the Hero of Ferelden's self-sacrifice to save Thedas from The Blight. The sky has been ripped open, the Divine is dead, and Leliana is very much alone. She has not seen her love, the mysterious swamp-dwelling witch by the name of Morrigan, since she left her before the battle with the dreaded Archdemon. </p>
<p>Now she is the Spymaster of the Inquisiton. The Nightingale. A woman feared by the people of Thedas. She is made of stone, and shrouded in secrets. At least that's what she'd like everyone to believe. The façade nearly ends when she comes face-to-face with Morrigan once again. </p>
<p>Set first in Inquisition, then Origins. It will go back to Inquisition after the Blight.  </p>
<p>The rating will most likely be bumped up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is written for a close friend of mine, who ships Leliana and Morrigan pretty much as much as I do. Definitely my favorite Dragon Age pairing. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm trying to aim for something more descriptive with this fic, as I feel like it's important to understand the complexity of the emotions Leliana and Morrigan both have, during and after Origins, and especially during Inquisition. So this will be completely, completely different from my other one which is far more lighthearted and dialogue-heavy... this will hopefully be more refined as well. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> xx Mictec

With passion'd breath does the darkness creep.

It is the whisper in the night, the lie upon your sleep.

- _Transfigurations 1:5_

 

 

Skyhold was massive. Nestled between the snow covered mountains on the border of Ferelden and Orlais, she stood tall even through years of isolation. Water seeped through the cracks of Skyhold’s bricks, expanding each winter she stood alone, until part of her collapsed - the damage irreparable. What had been patched together before the Inquisition took over, had been done with stolen (or perhaps borrowed) bricks, each having a small, but necessary role in holding Skyhold together. 

 Leliana thought of this often, as she rested her hand on the stone, cooled by the winter breeze. She was similar, in a sense. She was worn and weathered by her experiences, and yet here she stood. Haven had been destroyed only weeks earlier, by someone that wished to do something unfathomably selfish. Sit upon the seat of the Maker? Impossible. Telling herself that offered a small amount of comfort, at least. In reality, after all she had seen, after all she had been through, she didn’t write it off. 

 At night, when she had a moment to herself (which was not often), she would walk to the garden. The moon shone directly into the courtyard, softly lighting the stained glass of the chapel. It was here that she was most at ease, where she felt no need to hide. She would lower her hood, and allow the cold to nip at her skin, preferring the sting to the numbness she was used to. One night, she sat in the middle of the garden, a small white flower crushed in her hand, the familiar scent wafting through her nose. 

 “Leliana?” She hadn’t heard her approach. How foolish, how idiotic of her, letting her guard down, becoming so comfortable here in silence. But the voice was familiar, and so she remained calm. 

 “Josie.” Leliana turned to look at the younger woman, candle in her hand, hair loosely tied away from her face, brow furrowed with concern. Josephine had been Leliana’s only source of comfort, her only friend, her only source of warmth and understanding within the cold walls of Skyhold, and as Josie sat beside her on the hard ground and held her as she sobbed, she was grateful for her most cherished friend. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

From the Fade I crafted you,  
And to the Fade you shall return  
Each night in dreams  
That you may always remember me.

_-Threnodies 5:1-5:8_

 

Leliana woke suddenly, her heart pounding, hands trembling. 

"Leliana, breathe. You're ok." Josephine placed a hand on the redhead's shoulder, and squeezed gently to reassure her. 

"Josie, I am so sorry. I did not mean to be a burden." The bard rubbed her eyes and leaned into Josephine, the scent of Antivan incense and a sweet Orlesian perfume clung to her thick, black hair. 

"Nonsense, Leliana. You are never a burden." She kissed the top of Leliana's head. "You dreamt of her again, didn't you?"

"Yes." 

 

The dreams started after the Blight was over. The Hero was dead; sacrificed herself to save Ferelden. And Morrigan? She was gone - left in a rage, angered that the Hero would not allow her to perform the ritual. An "unnecessary death" she had called it, as she stuffed the small amount of belongings she had into her rucksack, while Leliana begged her to stay. Morrigan said she had to leave, insisted on leaving then, for she could not bear to see her friend, her sister, throw away her life. She made sure that Leliana knew she could not follow, no matter how much she pleaded with her. She had warned her, after all, that their relationship would only end in sadness. "Selfish" Morrigan had called her, after Leliana insisted on continuing their relationship when, in truth, neither of them could pull away. It was there, before they left for Denerim, while Leliana sat at the edge of her bed, twisting the ring on her finger, that she finally understood why Morrigan had said such a thing to her.

She had always planned to leave.

• • •

The funeral was held a week after the Archdemon was struck down. Alistair had been crowned King of Ferelden, and Anora queen. The Hero of Ferelden was lain upon the funeral pyre, in the courtyard of Denerim's palace. Whatever celebration they intended to have after the Blight was over, was replaced by an emptiness in place of their beloved friend. Here they all were. Her family, her friends, all present with the exception of Morrigan. 

Alistair spoke first, telling the tale of her bravery and kindness, expressing his admiration and grief. Her brother Fergus lit the pyre, and as Leliana began to walk away, she noticed a bird perched atop the battlements, its wings tinted purple, singing a mournful song as it watched the smoke rise into the sky. 

 

The nightmares began that evening. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep in mind that I've not read any of the Dragon Age books, so this is based loosely on whatever I read from the Wiki. Of course, with this being a story with Morrigan & Leliana as a pairing, it's not exactly canon to begin with, but I am trying to stick to it as well as I can.

O Maker, hear my cry:   
Guide me through the blackest nights   
Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked   
Make me to rest in the warmest places. 

_-Transfigurations 12:1_

 

Leliana kneeled before the broken statue of Andraste, her hands folded before her face, her head bowed. 

"My Maker, know my heart. Take me from a life of sorrow, lift me form a world of pain. Judge me worthy of your endless pride." She sighed and rose to her feet, her eyes fixated on the colors from the glass that danced across Andraste's fractured face. "Why have you set me on this path?" 

 

Seven years ago, Leliana received a message from Mother Dorothea, inviting her to Valence and informing her that she was one of the candidates to become Divine after Divine Beatrix passes. A week after the message arrived, while Leliana was still on her way to Orlais, Divine Beatrix succumbed to her illness and passed away. Upon her arrival, she was greeted by Dorothea and Cassandra Pentaghast, who came to deliver word that Mother Dorothea would be named Divine Justinia V. Leliana wasn't surprised that her oldest friend had been named Divine. She had always believed in her and her vision, and something about Dorothea made Cassandra believe in her as well who, despite her initial hesitation, accepted Dorothea's offer to remain the Right Hand of the Divine. When asked to be her Left Hand, Leliana was taken aback. She accepted, of course, but only after Dorothea assured her that she was the only one she wanted for the job.  

Leliana sent word of her new position to Alistair, and after the coronation (where she was named Sister Nightingale) Josephine Montilyet celebrated her arrival with a ball. Work began almost immediately after. She carefully studied the spy networks that had been put in place during Beatrix's reign, and made drastic changes to improve the reliability and reach of her agents. Leliana was able to grow the spy network into something incredibly formidable, something unavoidable. Every secret flowing through the imperial court was hers to do what she pleased with. She worked with a linguist that was studying ancient texts to develop a code and cipher to be used only by the agents of the Divine. She also learned how to train and care for courier birds, something she found to be cathartic. 

Eventually, she was sent to different parts of Thedas to observe the workings of foreign government and to develop stronger relationships with the rulers of regions outside of Orlais. When there was word of unrest in Kirkwall, she was sent to investigate, where she briefly ran into Hawke and their companions, who only weeks later would be at the center of the Kirkwall Rebellion. It was around that time Divine Justinia sent Wynne to take her son to Adamant Fortress to help free the templar Evangeline's friend, Pharamond, a tranquil mage who had become an abomination. Pharamond mentioned that he had found a way to reverse the Rite of Tranquility: the discovery that ultimately started the Mage-Templar war. A conclave was held, and Wynne's son was framed for the murder of Pharamond after Lord Seeker Lambert found a bloodied knife in his chambers. The mages believed Rhys' innocence, and refused to stand down, which resulted in the slaying and imprisonment of several first enchanters - Rhys being one of the captured mages. Leliana was sent to the White Spire along with Shale, Wynne, and Evangeline to free the captured mages. Leliana led the imprisoned mages to safety, while the other three destroyed the phylectaries. It was a massacre; the mages fought against their templar masters and were victorious. Evangeline had fallen; killed during a duel with Lord Seeker Lambert. Wynne transferred the spirit that sustained her life into Evangeline, sacrificing her life to revive her. Leliana, Shale, Rhys and Evangeline buried Wynne's ashes beneath a tree in Andoral's Reach. 

By 9:37 the circles had been dismantled, and the Mage/Templar war, as well as the Orlesian Civil War, was in full swing. Empress Celene welcomed an apostate as her arcane advisor, after she integrated herself into the court and quickly gained Celene's favor. The rumors spread quickly; who was this raven-haired witch? They called her sinister, accused her of having the Empress wrapped around her little finger. Leliana read through the reports, analyzing every detail. Her heart sunk. It had been six years, and the wound still felt fresh. Why now? Why here, in Orlais? This is the last place Morrigan would want to be. Perhaps that was the point. 

Leliana found it harder to sleep knowing that Morrigan was close, and often played with the rosewood ring the witch had given her, the grain ever-changing.

She could've sworn she saw herself in it that night. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halamshiral

O Creator, see me kneel:

For I walk only where You would bid me

Stand only in places You have blessed

Sing only the words You place in my throat. 

_ -Transfigurations 12:2 _

 

The Inquisition had secured an invitation to the Winter Palace from Grand Duke Gaspard. The Inquisitor, much to everyone’s surprise, was extremely well-versed in the Grand Game. She had mentioned her fascination with Orlesian politics before, but Leliana and Josephine had no idea how deep that fascination ran.

 “I bought book on the political workings of Orlais to study just in case my clan ever found themselves there. The keeper wasn’t too fond of the idea. She felt as though I was getting to close to shems by studying their culture. Never thought _this_ is the way I would be using that knowledge.” Lavellan said with a grin. Leliana felt that she was somewhat overconfident, something that wouldn’t necessarily work in her favor. Haughtiness wasn’t frowned upon, but it was not favored either. Humility, on the other hand, was most definitely the way to go. 

 “I take it you know the history of Halamshiral and the Winter Palace, then?” Josephine asked, her pen still scratching on her parchment. 

“Of course.”

“Good. They will try to use it against you. I suggest you direct the conversation elsewhere, if that happens. They will think little of you as it is. Some will be in shock that a ‘knife-ear’ is the Herald of Andraste, and even more elaborate rumors will begin to spread. So long as you play the game well, they will instead speak in your favor.” Leliana stood, and pulled her hood over her head “But you know all of this already, do you not?” She looked at Josephine, who nodded in return. “There isn’t much more we can do, we leave in a week. If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps Harding will teach you a few things about dancing. Good day, Inquisitor.” The advisors left Lavellan’s chambers, and began to descend the stairs. 

 “Come, Leliana. We should talk.” Josephine placed her hand on the Spymaster’s shoulder.

“I’m fine, Josie. I need to tend to the birds.”

“Leliana.” Josephine’s voice was still and firm, her grip tightened. She was, quite possibly, the only person that could strike even a small amount of fear into Leliana with just a look. Leliana sighed, and allowed Josephine to lead her to the battlements. “I spoke to Madame Giroux, and she confirmed that the advisor is still there.” Leliana bowed her head. She had been exhausting herself, thinking of what may happen at the ball. It was inevitable that she would see the witch there, and she did not feel ready. She longed to see her again, it was a thought  that passed through her head every day for the past ten years, but with each year the thought became more painful, and she became numb to the pain. 

“I’m sorry, Josephine. I should not be acting this way, it’s been too long for me to have held onto this. I’m sure I’m hardly a thought in her mind now. I’ll be alright.” She forced a smile, but Josephine could see right through it. Before the Ambassador could say anything further, Leliana walked away, and disappeared through the doors of the rookery. 

 • • •

 

Leliana watched the Inquisitor carefully as she walked through the gates of the Winter Palace. Grand Duke Gaspard was quick to greet her. A hardy laugh erupted from underneath his mask, as he offered Lavellan his arm. The Inquisitor was charming, there was no doubt about that, but she needed to be extremely careful. Josephine walked towards the Inquisitor and the Grand Duke, whispering something in Lavellan’s ear, before she turned away and sauntered towards Leliana. 

 “What did you say to her, Ambassador?” 

“I just gently reminded her that her words could potentially lead to her death.”

“Oh, yes, _very_ gentle.” Leliana laughed and motioned towards the entrance, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. The Winter Palace had been one of her favorite places, the plastered blue walls imprinted in her memories from childhood, and most recently her visit with Empress Celene before the breach cracked open the sky. Tonight she couldn’t help but feel anxious. The walls were taller than she remembered, the vestibule seemed to stretch on for miles. The gold was glittering, blinding. Her eyes searched the room, trying to see under masks, studying the details of each patron she could look upon, looking for some mark of familiarity. Unfortunately the trends in Orlais were followed by almost everyone, with only small differences to make one’s outfit unique. 

 The Inquisition was introduced, starting with Lavellan. The bard could feel eyes of the court on her, studying her, looking for a weakness to exploit… but she knew they feared her, she knew they would not dare cross her and her newfound influence or she would tear them apart. While she wore a figurative mask here, concealing her ruthless nature with a smile, she was still cold. 

 She observed, her blue eyes carefully combing over the ballroom, even during idle conversation with those who knew her, or were daring enough to approach her. Eventually the Inquisitor came around, making a hushed remark about how Orlesian fashion was not particularly to her liking. Leliana pulled her aside, to tell her of Morrigan and her position in court. 

 “The Empress has always been fascinated with mysticism - foreseeing the future, speaking with the dead, that sort of rubbish. She has an ‘Occult Advisor’. An apostate who charmed the Empress and key members of her court as if by magic. I’ve had… dealings with her in the past. She is beautiful, ruthless when she needs to be, and is most certainly capable of anything.” Leliana clasped her hands together, and shifted her feet. She felt uncomfortable talking about Morrigan in this way, but she could not rule out the possibility of her involvement. 

 “Well, great, she sounds exactly like the person we’re looking for. I’ll round up the gang and let them know to gear up, and we’ll head to the guest wing as soon as possible. I’ll let you know if we find anything, Sister Nightingale.” The Inquisitor nodded her head, and left through the doors to the garden, while Leliana went back to the ballroom. 

Where she had stood before, there was a single dark feather. She took the ring out of her pocket. The grain was swirling, and it was omitting a heat she had not felt before. 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

For You are the fire at the heart of the world   
And comfort is only Yours to give.

**_-Transfigurations 12:6_ **

 

Morrigan hadn’t expected to be so taken aback by Leliana’s presence. She had known the Spymaster would be there for months, but it certainly didn’t make it any easier. She waited by the doors to the ballroom for the Inquisitor. Though she did not care much for whether or not Celene would make it through the night, she had to ensure she would not be the one to take the blame... and who better to find the assassin than the Inquisitor? They had been thoroughly investigating as it is, and Morrigan wanted to make it clear to her that she was watching closely. She noticed the Inquisitor turn the corner, and she quickly followed. 

“Well, well, what have we here?” The Inquisitor was slightly startled by Morrigan’s voice “The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled Herald of the faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself. What could bring such an exalted creature here to the imperial Court, I wonder? Do even you know?” The witch’s hands were on her hips, her mouth twisted into a smirk. The Inquisitor, though feeling quite unsettled, smiled warmly at her. 

“Ah, well, we may never know. Courtly intrigues and all that.” 

“Such intrigues obscure much, but not all. I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane.”

“Wait. Morrigan? Sister Leliana spoke of you earlier.” Morrigan’s eyebrow piqued. 

“Did she now?”

“Yes. Mentioned you worked together at one point. During the Blight, I’m assuming. She called you ruthless.” 

“Is that so?” Morrigan was hardly surprised, but it still made her stomach churn. “That is no matter. I see you have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?”

“I certainly hope so. I could use another ally here. I’ve found they’re… hard to come by.” 

“A sentiment I share, considering recent events.” 

“Uh. Recent events?” 

“Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these very walls. An agent of Tevinter. So I offer you this, Inquisitor: a key found on the Tevinter’s body. Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can.” 

“Well, it seems Sister Leliana was right about you. You are ruthless, indeed. She wasn’t wrong about you being beautiful, either. I’ll look into it. You get back to the Empress. It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Morrigan.” The Inquisitor bowed and took her leave. 

 Morrigan could feel her heartbeat quicken, a cold sweat crept through her skin, as she ran her hands over her dress. She took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and opened the doors to the ballroom. 

 

• • • 

 

Leliana stood next to Josephine and Yvette while they argued about Yvette’s upcoming art show. She only caught bits and pieces, but it was the same bickering she had heard more times than she cared to remember. Her thoughts were distant; almost detached from her body. A faint numbness spread throughout her, the black feather clutched so tightly, her knuckles were white. Her vision was blurred. It felt as though her eyes were glossed over, and she could feel nothing but the lump in her throat forming and the pressure of her anxiety crashing against her skull. 

 The loud click of the doors opening snapped Leliana out of her trance, and she felt her eyes being drawn toward them. She felt her mouth dry, her heart drop, and her grip loosened - the feather barely held up by curved fingers. She inhaled sharply, her chest tightening. Morrigan. Red velvet loosely draped upon her shoulders, lined with dark, silken lace and golden embroidery, starkly contrasting her alabaster skin. She began to mindlessly walk towards her, the words pouring out of Josephine’s mouth, fell on deaf ears. The witch saw her, and Leliana could feel a shift in her demeanor. Golden eyes softened, brows gently furrowed, still slightly hidden beneath loosely parted obsidian-colored locks. When she stood in front of Morrigan, she reached out her hand, as if to touch her face, and it was gently grasped by the other woman. 

 “Not here.” Morrigan said to her, voice trembling and hushed, as she pulled her away from the ballroom and out to a balcony. Leliana found it difficult to look at Morrigan directly, and her heart sunk when she felt Morrigan’s hand was no longer holding hers. But it was soon replaced by a warm, familiar feeling, as Morrigan’s hand cupped her cheek. The witch took a step closer, her thumb brushing away a tear that fell from the bard’s blue eyes. She smelled of earth and metal, faintly masked beneath a light Orlesian perfume. Another step. They could feel each other’s breath now; shallow and quick. Leliana’s fingers ran along the neckline of Morrigan’s dress, her eyes following the motion. “Leliana.”

“You remembered.” 

“’Twas never my intention to forget.” 

Morrigan tipped her head down slightly, and met Leliana’s lips with her own. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KISSY KISSY
> 
> I had such bad writer's block it took me forever to write this tiny little chapter BUT we're finally there. Reunion time! Yeeeeeee. 
> 
> It's 2AM, I'm exhausted, I apologize for any errors and will re-read this and re-edit after I get three days of sleep. 
> 
> Hope you've all enjoyed this so far!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kissy kissy pt. 2!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you all so much for the kudos and positive feedback! It's an incredible boost of confidence for me, as I've not had much confidence in my writing as of late. It's so good to get back into it, and it's especially wonderful to know that people are actually enjoying it!
> 
> Second, I'm so sorry this update has taken so long. I intended to finish writing and uploading this chapter a few weeks ago, but there was a death in the family that required me to travel back to Kenya... which is where I still am. The internet is a nightmare here, so it's been difficult to get anything up. Thank you for your patience!

 

 

From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.

Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.

_-Andraste, 14:11_

**__ **

 

Morrigan sighed as their lips met. Ten years. Ten years of waiting and it all came down to this moment, and she was not disappointed. She knew then that she could not leave Leliana again, for it would be unbearable. She could taste the saltiness of their mixed tears upon Leliana’s lips, and spiced wine on her tongue. The spymaster’s hands found her waist and pulled her in closer, and she couldn’t help but smile. Oh, how she wished she could remain close to her love for the rest of the evening, but she could not risk leaving Celene alone for much longer. Leliana would understand, Morrigan knew that, but pulling herself away was torturous. She cupped Leliana’s face in her hands, and pressed their foreheads together gently. 

 “Morrigan, I-“ before the bard could finish her thought, Morrigan kissed her again, tender and quick.

“Celene is still in danger,” another kiss, the rest of her words spoken onto her lips “and ’tis important I am at her side.” She tucked Leliana’s hair behind her ears, and her heart fluttered when a slight smile tugged at the corners of the spymaster’s mouth. Leliana could feel a lump forming in her throat as Morrigan stepped back, and she grabbed her hand. 

“Don’t you dare disappear without saying goodbye. You owe me that, at the very least.” Leliana’s voice betrayed her, shaky and weak, but her eyes found Morrigan’s and sent a wave of guilt rippling through the witch. She raised Leliana’s hand to her face and leaned her cheek into it, before kissing her palm. 

 “I won’t have to.” She turned on her heel, and strutted into the ballroom. 

 

•••

 

How the Inquisitor managed to reunite Briala and Celene, she did not know. What Leliana did know, is that they had succeeded, and that was enough for her. Almost. There was no sign of Morrigan after the ball. She looked for her, only to find the Inquisitor alone on the balcony overlooking the gardens, with a drink in her hand. 

“Inquisitor.” Leliana said quietly, slightly bowing her head. Lavellan looked at her over her shoulder, a small smile tugged at her mouth while she motioned for the spymaster to join her. 

“Well. That was not unlike the tales I read. Uh, aside from the whole… demons, thing.” Lavellan laughed and Leliana made a sound of agreement, as she took a sip of the drink that was offered to her. 

“It was certainly not uneventful. Have you seen Josephine, Inquisitor? There are some things I wish to discuss with her.” 

“Oh, yeah, she’s kind of busy right now.”

“Busy?”

“Cassandra.”

“Ah.” She was trying to contain a chuckle. "Well, if you see her, please let her know I’m looking for her.” 

“Of course, Nightingale.” Lavellan tipped her glass at Leliana, and turned to face the gardens again. 

 

Two hours passed, and Morrigan was still nowhere to be found. Leliana had given up, and rounded up a group of her agents to walk back to the caravans. It would take them two weeks to get back to Skyhold, and she had to finish her own preparations. She watched the Inquisitor, already out of her finery and hunched over her arrows, poorly attempting to repair the fletching. Sighing to herself, Leliana unlocked and reached into a dark mahogany chest, pulling out her traveling armour. Leather; soft to the touch, but still tough enough to stop an arrow from fatally piercing her. She ducked into a tent to change, and tensed up when she felt the heat of someone standing beside her, and was quick to raise a dagger to their throat. 

 “’Tis just me. I told you, you would see me again.” Morrigan said through a grin barely seen in the shadows. She was no longer in her dress; the fine velvet replaced with raggedy cotton and stitched leather, lined with lambswool, and a single pauldron adorned with raven feathers. Leliana lowered and sheathed her dagger, but she was still tense and Morrigan could feel it. 

 “Have you come to say goodbye, then?” Her voice was soft, and her eyes were filled with uncertainty as she reached for the witch’s hands. They were calloused, but soft, and fit into hers perfectly. Morrigan allowed herself to be pulled closer, and she smiled to herself. She couldn’t predict how Leliana would react to her news, considering how much the woman had changed. 

 “Actually, Leliana, Celene is sending me to the Inquisition as a liaison. A mutually beneficial agreement, with many political benefits, no doubt.” She moved closer to Leliana. “But I know it has been many years, and the way I left Redcliffe, the way I left _you_ , was unfair, and I will only go if you will have me. If you are uncomfortable, then I- I will leave.” Her face was burning, and her stomach knotted in anticipation, but any apprehension she had quickly dissipated when she saw Leliana’s smile. Bright, and full, just as she remembered, and it filled her heart with warmth. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, these chapters are turning out to be a lot shorter than they feel! Good news is that I've already started on the next one. Bad news is... I'm probably going to end up running out of verses from The Chant. Oh, well.


	7. Chapter 7

In my arms lies Eternity.

_ -Andraste 14:11 _

 

Leliana sat in bed, reading scout reports while Morrigan slept next to her. The morning sun shone through her window at just the right angle, and illuminated Morrigan’s back. Leliana smiled to herself as she watched the witch sleep soundly. She was face down, hair pooled around her face, her head buried in the sheets next to Leliana’s thigh. She stirred only when Lelina rose to place the scout reports her desk, before returning to plant kisses on her lover’s back. She kissed each exposed beauty mark that adorned her skin, and ran a finger along a scar on her shoulder. Morrigan tilted her head slightly upward, so she could speak. 

“Why are you up at such an ungodly hour?” She asked, her voice hoarse. Leliana chuckled and kissed Morrigan’s cheek. 

“My love, it is almost noon.” The witch groaned and turned to face Leliana, squinting when the sun hit her face. 

“And you did not to think to wake me before now? ’Twas quite rude of you, Leliana.”

“You looked so peaceful.” 

“I am feeling less so now.” Morrigan said, as she shot a dirty look at Leliana, who hummed in disapproval. 

“You were never a morning person.”

“That is not true. I am when I need to be.” She softened her gaze. Leliana looked beautiful, though that is not the word she would use to describe her. Radiant seemed more fitting, especially in this light. “And right now, it just so happens I do not need to be.” Morrigan pulled Leliana down next to her, and held her tightly, gently kissing her forehead. The bard’s fingers found their way to Morrigan’s hair, curling a thick lock between her middle and index fingers. She enjoyed these moments, rare as they were. 

 

It had been five months since Halamshiral, and those five months could be described as tumultuous at best. Leliana and Josephine were carefully navigating the political side of the outcome, and the news that Leliana was a candidate for Divine made things worse. She never thought that the remaining clerics may look to her or Cassandra as possible candidates, nor did she truly think herself worthy of it. It was not something she was currently considering, with the reach of the Inquisition growing rapidly thanks to its newfound influence. Her attention was focused on ensuring she gathered as much information as possible, and she and Josephine proved to be a near unstoppable force. She spent as much time as she could with Morrigan, pleased to see that her habits hadn’t changed much. She would spend hours with her nose buried in books, frantically scribbling notes on parchment she kept neatly bound and organized. Oftentimes they would work together in the rookery, just content to be in each other’s company. Other times, Morrigan kept herself locked in the room she kept the Eluvian in, traveling to the place in between. Leliana still didn’t know of this mysterious mirror, but Morrigan would tell her in time. She learned long ago that keeping secrets from Leliana was pointless, for the woman would search for truths and find them no matter the cost, and that was an early lesson.

• • • 

 

“How very fitting that they would build a prison for mages in the middle of a lake and make it look like a giant phallus.” Morrigan snickered. 

“And how would you know that? I’m sure any phallus that’s been near you has shrivelled up and fallen off.” Alistair seemed a little too proud of that one. 

“Oi, you two, play nice. We’ve got to go inside the giant dick prison whether we like it or not, and I’d appreciate not having to pull you two apart before we even get there.” Cousland had grown tired of their bickering, though it greatly amused her at first. She wished they could get along, but knew it was impossible. She hadn’t been to Kinloch Hold before, and it made her incredibly uneasy. She had no problem with mages, but she did have a problem with templars. They made her skin crawl in the worst of ways, and entering a tower that was surely full of them was something she wanted to avoid for as long as possible. 

 

Morrigan had approached her the previous night, to ask if it would be possible to retrieve Flemeth’s grimoire from the circle, and Cousland agreed. After they had freed the mages and retrieved the grimoire, they headed back to camp for the night and Morrigan immediately went into her tent to study the grimoire. Ten hours passed, and there was no sign of Morrigan. She hadn’t emerged from her tent all day, not even for a meal. Leliana was playing her lute and noticed her absence, and though it was unsurprising, she began to worry. She approached Morrigan’s tent with a bowl of stew in her hand, and she stopped as soon as she heard it. It was a faint sound, but there was no doubting what it was. The witch was crying. She hesitated for a moment, unsure whether she should bother her or leave her be, but eventually opened the flap to her tent. Morrigan sat, cross legged, the grimoire on her lap and her face buried in her hands. She looked helpless, and Leliana couldn’t help but reach out to her. She put the bowl down, and placed her hand on Morrigan’s shoulder. The witch was startled, and quickly shot fire out at the bard, missing her by less than an inch. 

 

“Leave, or I will burn you where you stand.” Her voice was shaky, makeup ran down her face and her hair was stuck to her cheeks, but in her eyes was a ferocity that Leliana never forgot. 

“No, Morrigan.” Leliana crouched next to her, and took her hands (Morrigan was too weak to fight back), closing them to snuff the flame. “I will not leave while you are like this. Not now.” 

“I do not need your sympathy, bard.” 

“I’m not here for that.”

“Then bego-“ Morrigan’s words couldn’t leave her throat as Leliana wrapped her arms around her. “What are you doing, you foolish woman?!” 

“Let me, Morrigan.” She held onto the witch tighter, and planted her feet on the ground, expecting resistance. It did not come.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I know hurt, and I know loneliness, and while we don’t get along, I do not wish those things upon you.” 

“I… thank you.” 

 They sat in silence, until Morrigan was brave enough to speak again. She told Leliana what she had found in the grimoire, and the bard was horrified, but knew to not mention it. She also knew the feeling of abandonment and betrayal Morrigan was currently going through, and held onto the woman. She was being honest when she said she didn't wish loneliness upon the witch, for it was the worst feeling in the world, and she only hoped she helped alleviate the feeling even a little bit. 

She did.

Morrigan eventually fell asleep, succumbing to the exhaustion from allowing herself to feel, to be vulnerable, and Leliana stayed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next few chapters I'm probably going to be exploring more of how they ended up getting together in Origins. I've been wanting to write this chapter for a while and felt this was the right time to do so, so it was an easy one to put out there. Hope you enjoyed it! x
> 
> Oh, also the "giant phallus" line was an actual thing that Morrigan said in the game and I still laugh when I think about it.
> 
> One more thing. This is my tumblr sideblog for all my stupid video game feelings. Feel free to message me there or whatever. http://baron-plucky.tumblr.com/


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Origins only chapter.

In blackest envy were the demons born.

_-Erudition 2:1_

 

 Leliana woke up an hour before sunrise. She was careful to not disturb Morrigan, who was sleeping like a child. Her knees close to her chest, tightly clutching a blanket. The bard knew it was best to give Morrigan space after the previous night, and she wondered what Morrigan would say to her.

She got her answer a few hours later, while she stoked the fire and began to prepare their morning porridge. Alistair and Hank, Cousland’s mabari, returned to camp after their watch, going straight into Alistair’s tent. Zevran poked his head out of the tent he shared with Sten to see if Leliana needed anything, and she just shook her head in response. Cousland came out of her tent and sat next to Leliana, resting her head on the shorter woman’s shoulder. Leliana smiled and placed her hand on her friend’s head. 

“Long night?”

“Eh, no longer than usual.” Cousland sighed “Where were you?”

“I was getting some much needed time alone. Went for a walk.” 

“Leliana, you know you shouldn’t be going on your own. Take Hank with you, at least.”

“I know.”

They both looked towards Morrigan’s tent as the witch stepped out of it and locked eyes with Leliana before walking over to the fire. 

“Leliana. A word please.” Morrigan said coldly. Leliana could feel the Warden tense up, and she looked at the bard to ensure she was ok, and was satisfied when Leliana smiled at her. She stood and walked with Morrigan back to her small section of the camp. She wasn’t sure what to expect. She was preparing herself t be yelled at, or struck, or insulted in the cold sarcastic way that was Morrigan’s nature. So she held her ground, gritted her teeth, and her hands were close to making fists. 

“Thank you.”

“What?” Leliana blinked, trying her damnedest to not allow her mouth to fall open. That… she was not expecting. 

“Do not make the mistake of thinking that we are friends, bard.” Morrigan’s brow was furrowed, her eyes fixated on Leliana’s. “Just know that your gesture was appreciated. I expect you will not mention it to anyone.”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Now, begone, and tell Cousland I wish to speak with her” 

 

•••

 

“We’re going back to the wilds.” Cousland said, as she threw her rucksack into the back of a cart. Alistair nearly spat out his porridge.

“What?! What for? We have no need to!” 

“Well, Alistair, after speaking with Morrigan I believe we do.”

“Ohh, I see, so you’re listening to her? What if she’s leading us into some… witchy trap?!” 

“Are you really that scared of being turned into a toad?”

“Hey, hey, you know I’ve had nightmares.”

“Your nightmares are the sweetest of my dreams.” Morrigan added with a smile.

“See?! She’s evil! Pure evil.” Alistair was turning red. He was frustrated. Hurt, that Cousland made the decision to go to the wilds without him. He sighed, and sat on a rock before collecting his thoughts.

“Fine. We’ll go. At least tell me why we’re going.”

“We need to kill Flemeth.”

“Oh. Oh! Just…kill Flemeth. The Witch of the fucking Wilds, that’s all. Just fuck me right in the ass why don’t you.”

“I’ve offered!” Zevran quipped, and ducked out of the way when Alistair threw a rock at his head. 

“Look, Alistair, I know you don’t trust her but Morrigan is my friend and I need _you_ to trust _me_ when I tell you this is extremely important.” She walked over to Alistair and placed a hand on his cheek. “Do this for me. Please.”

“Oh, alright. _Fine_.” 

“Yay!” She pecked his cheek. “Uh. Ahem Right. Sorry. So then, Alistair, Wynne, Zevran and myself will be the ones going after Flemeth. That means Morrigan, Leliana, Sten and Hank, you’ll be at camp. We will be camping a day away from her hut. It’ll take us at least a week to get there, including our stop for supplies so… let’s get going."

 

•••

 

They set camp about a day east from Flemeth’s hut. The group going after the grimoire made final preparations and took a day to rest. They left at dawn, and Morrigan carefully set up wards to protect them from unwanted creatures.

When night came, Sten and Hank took first watch, allowing Morrigan and Leliana to get some much needed sleep… though it was hardly peaceful. Morrigan’s dreams were littered with memories of her mother, and Leliana’s of Marjolaine. 

Hank nudged Leliana awake (he learned very quickly to never wake up Morrigan) when he and Sten returned. She wrapped the wool blanket around her, scratched Hank’s ears, and left her tent to sit by the fire. Morrigan joined her a few minutes later, the Black Grimoire in hand. She thumbed through the last few pages, trying to ignore Leliana’s incessant staring. 

“What now, bard?” Morrigan hissed, not taking her eyes off the grimoire. The pages were thin, the words scribbled down in void-black ink, so cramped together the words were almost unreadable. 

“Nothing.”

“You were staring.” The witch was still busy studying the book.

“I know, sorry. I did not mean to.” Leliana shifted uncomfortably, her eyes now fixated on the tree on the cover of the book. Morrigan sighed and closed the grimoire.

“This makes you uncomfortable, does it not? This book of spells and secrets penned by a powerful witch that’s no doubt hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. ’Tis not unwise to be made uncomfortable by it.”

“That’s not it, Morrigan. It makes me uncomfortable, yes, but that isn’t what’s bothering me.” 

Morrigan was tempted to ask her what it was, but Leliana had already seen her weak, and she did not want to give the woman the idea that she may actually care (and she did, as much as she hated to admit it). 

“Morrigan I… was wondering.” She shifted again, and spoke softly. “Those stories I asked you about when we first met, the ones your mother used to tell you about her youth… did you, ah, did you ever see yourself doing those things as well?” 

“Oh, why, of course! I wanted nothing more than to terrorize the lives of wilder men for my own enjoyment! Become the very thing that all men fear and women wish they could be. A force of terror, preying on those who were weakened by their insatiable need for sex and power. Truly, ’twas all I could think about as a girl.” Morrigan spat, a tinge of venom lingering on each word. She sighed and looked at the fire, controlling the flames to occupy herself.

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No. You shouldn’t have.” The witch stopped playing with the fire, and stared at her feet. 

“It seems like it was lonely in the Wilds.” 

“Are you still prying? Have you nothing better to do?” She glared at Leliana, who was fiddling with one of her arrows. Moments passed in silence before Morrigan took a breath and spoke again. “If you must know, it was at times. A world full of people and buildings and things was all very foreign to me. If I wished companionship, I ran with the wolves and flew with the birds. If I spoke, ’twas to the trees.. but such simple pleasures will only enthrall for so long. I recall the first time I crept beyond the edge of the Wilds. I did so in animal form, remaining in the shadows and watching these strange townsfolk from afar. I happened upon a noblewoman by her carriage, adorned in sparkling garments the likes of which I had never before seen. I was dazzled. This, to me, seemed what true wealth and beauty must be. I snuck up behind her and stole a hand mirror from the carriage. ’Twas encrusted in gold and crystalline gemstones and I hugged it to my chest with delight as I sped back to the Wilds.” Morrigan was smiling now, as slight as it was, and Leliana caught it from the corner of her eye. “As I am sure you can imagine, Flemeth was furious with me. I was a child and had not yet come into my full power, and I had risked discovery for the sake of a pretty bauble.” Her smile faded. “To teach me a lesson, Flemeth took the mirror and smashed it upon the ground. I was heartbroken.” Leliana found her hand resting on Morrigan’s lap, unaware that she had moved at all. She didn’t dare move it, worried that she would shatter the fragile moment, but it did not keep her from speaking. 

“You were just a child, that was cruel of her.” 

“I was a foolish one. Flemeth was right to break me of my fascination. Beauty and love -“ She moved Leliana’s hand off her lap “-are fleeting and have no meaning. Survival has meaning. Power has meaning. Without those lessons I would not be here today, as difficult as they might have been. Those lessons made me stronger. I find myself at times wondering what might have become of the girl with the beautiful, golden mirror… but such fantasies have no place amidst reality.” 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts,  
On blacken'd wings does deceit take flight,  
The first of My children, lost to night.

_-Silence 3:6, Dissonant Verse_

 

Leliana stood at the edge of camp, staring past the trees into the darkness of the Wilds. It was the third night the Warden had been gone, and she was starting to worry. She knew, logically, that it would take five days at the very least for the Warden to return but... what if she never did? What if she finally bit off more than she could chew? She sighed, shook her head, and walked back to the fire. Hank sat next to her, resting his head on her lap. It was just the two of them for now. Sten was asleep in his tent, and Morrigan had flown off "to check for anything unusual," but Leliana knew she just wanted to be alone. 

Morrigan returned about an hour later, pushing through the bushes and sitting herself down next to Leliana with a loud thump. Her bun was coming undone, mud and seedlings clung to her clothes, and there were new cuts and bruises on her arms, back, and face. 

"Morrigan are -" 

"She is dead." Morrigan sighed. "My mo- Flemeth, is dead." 

Leliana placed a hand on the witch's head, and gently ran her fingers through the loose strands of her hair. Morrigan closed her eyes, finding comfort in Leliana's touch. She could feel the grief creeping up inside her, and she tried to push it back down, to conceal it. She hated the woman for this, yes, but Flemeth was her mother, and without her she would not be half the woman nor half the mage she is. It was a truth she planned to keep to herself, but her body betrayed her and a tear rolled down her cheek. She cursed under her breath as Leliana wiped it away with her thumb. 

"You don't need to hide from me, Morrigan." 

Morrigan scoffed and shook her head, wondering how the woman could tell what was going on in her head (she quickly reminded herself that Leliana was someone of many secrets). She felt exposed, frightened by how well Leliana had come to know her so quickly... and frightened by how fond of Leliana she found herself becoming. Blasted chantry sister. She found herself unable to move, despite trying to convince herself it was best to be alone, to process all of this on her own, bury herself in her studies or walk amongst the wolves; but she had done so already, and it did not ease her pain the way Leliana did. So she stayed, and they sat in near silence until sunrise. 

• • •

The Warden returned two days later. The tip of Zevran's left ear was missing, Wynne's staff was barely held together by rope, and Alistair's new armour was dented and cracked. Cousland herself had taken the worst of it. Her ribs were cracked, a boot was missing, her right eye was swollen shut and two of her teeth were gone. Three deep gashes (there was no doubt they were claw marks) ran along her torso, the thick leather of her armour ripped as if it were rice paper... and the grimoire tucked underneath her arm. Alistair and Zevran supported her as she was lain on a bedroll, the grimoire still clutched tightly in her hand. Leliana poked her head out of her tent, and called for Morrigan who ran over as quickly as possible, kneeling at Cousland's side. 

"Ah, Morrigan, you should know that your mother was quite a beast. You didn't tell us about her dragon trick." Zevran tsk'd and nodded towards the grimoire. "She's been refusing to put it down. She wants only you to take it." Cousland's mouth twisted into a soft smile, and a small laugh escaped her lips. 

"There's no way I would let anyone else touch it." She coughed and offered it to Morrigan, her hand shaking. The witch took it, and ran her hand over the cover. The leather was worn and soft, from many years of use, and the edges were rounded and discolored. Clutching it to her chest, she looked at the Warden, eyes full of gratitude and worry. 

"I'm glad you're alive, and that you were able to find mother's real grimoire after all. You have my thanks for retrieving it. I shall begin studying it immediately, and unlock the power that it holds. Clearly this was not easy. I am most grateful." Cousland smiled again, and placed her hand on Morrigan's knee. 

"It was worth knowing you're safe, my friend. Go on, I know you're dying to start reading it, and I need to rest. Maker knows Wynne and Leliana will be fussing over me soon enough.” 

 

They stayed in the Wilds for three more days, while the party recovered. Wynne and Leliana combined their knowledge of magic and healing salves to ease the pain and mend Cousland’s broken bones, and she was back on her feet within two days. On the third, they gathered for lunch and discussed their next move forward. Wynne thought going to Denerim to scope what was happening was the best option, but Zevran was quick to remind everyone that they had spies, assassins, and loyal guards planted throughout the city, and their visit would most certainly not go unnoticed. After much debate, they settled on Orzammar by way of Honnleath. 

A week and a half later, they arrived at the gates of the grand Dwarven thaig, after having gained one snarky golemn, and lost a demonic cat. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the time it took for me to write this chapter, and for the length (or lack of, rather). I know there also wasn't a hell of a lot of Morrigan and Leliana interaction in it as well, BUT... BUTTTTTTTTT! It's coming. Oh man, is it coming. This was a chapter to just get things going, the next few will have plenty of interaction between them, I promise you. 
> 
> I'm currently back in the U.S. visiting family and friends, and I forgot to buy an adaptor for my laptop so updating will be quite slow for the next few weeks because... I don't think ahead and have been borrowing my uncle's charger whenever I can. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments, they all make my day and make writing so much easier for me. It's a huge boost of confidence and makes me enjoy writing this even more. 
> 
> Also, feel free to send me any prompts through tumblr! I always need the practice. (baron-plucky.tumblr.com)
> 
> xx Mictec


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orzammar

 

Here, I decree

Opposition in all things:

For earth, sky...

 

Orzammar was greater than any of them could’ve possibly imagined. Intricately carved stone pillars hundreds of feet tall. Bridges as wide as the roads in Denim, stretched across chasms that revealed the rivers of lava that ran from the core of the earth. It would’ve been hard to believe they were underground if it wasn’t for the heat and thickness of the air. 

They had little time to admire their surroundings before a fight broke out. They learned that the king had recently died, and Orzammar was divided between Bhelen, the King’s son, and Harrowmont, the King’s trusted advisor. Until the conflict was over and a new king had been chose, the Dwarves could be of no help to the Wardens. 

They split into groups to divide the work amongst them. Cousland went into the deep roads with Shale, Wynne, and the drunken dwarf, Oghren. Alistair, Morrigan, Zevran and Hank went after Jarvia. Leliana was on her own to gather information. She spoke to the casteless, and the guards. She eavesdropped in the taverns and browsed the markets, looking for anything that could be of use to them. There were the usual fights between angry loyalists, and the rumours  spread amongst nobles. Leliana learned at a very young age that politics, at their very core, are the same everywhere. Orlais was known for the Grand Game simply because they dressed up their politics, rather than deny their true nature. In Orzammar, things weren’t masked as well, but secrets were secrets, and power was power, and people were exploited all the same. 

She had finished gathering as much information as possible, and was headed back to Tapster’s for the night when she saw it. In a crate of things being sold by the lyrium-addled dwarf, it sat gleaming and gold. She walked towards the crate, and cocked her head to try and make out more detail. 

“D-d-did something c-c-catch your e-eye? Please! Feel free to l-l-look at anything you’d l-like!” The dwarf had a smile on his face, and his hands were clasped together in excitement. 

“Thank you.” Leliana smiled back at him as she picked up the mirror. It was more beautiful than she had initially thought it to be. She could see herself in the polished glass through the thin veil of dust, housed in a gold frame. Deers and sparrows frolicking together on the back of the mirror made for a charming scene. The handle was detailed with fine (and likely hand-etched) filigree, that wrapped its way around the entirety of it, only to stop at the very tip of the handle, where a single immaculately carved amethyst was inlaid. 

“I-I’ve had that thing for a w-wh-while. You’re the first p-person to l-look at it in ages.”

“How much?”

“S-seventeen silver.” 

“I’ll take it.” She handed Garin the coin, and carefully tucked it in her satchel before quickly heading back to the tavern. 

She arrived just before Alistar’s party returned, and sat herself in a corner. They looked exhausted. Alistair ordered a pint of Maker-knows-what and downed it with a grimace on his face. He turned to the rest of the party, and she took the mirror out, polishing it beneath the table. 

“Ok, right, well, I’m ready to hit the hay. Clearly they don’t have enough room for all of us to get our own individual… rooms, so we’ll have to share.” Morrigan grunted and Alistair shot her a look. “You and I will not be sharing the same room, don’t worry. I’d rather sleep in a nug pen than sleep anywhere near you.”

“The feeling is mutual, at least.”

“Zevran, Hank, and myself will be in one room. You’re sharing with Leliana.”

“Oh, yes, because that is so much better than sharing with you.” Morrigan huffed, but the brief, subtle smile that tugged at the sides of her mouth did not go unnoticed by Leliana. She knew Morrigan was softer than she cared to show, and it was the small things, unnoticeable by most, that reaffirmed that. Still, she felt a twang of hurt at the words, stopped polishing the mirror, and shoved it back into her satchel. 

 

• • • 

 

“I need a drink. No, I need five. No, you know what? I just need the entire fucking keg.” The Warden pushed the door to Morrigan and Leliana’s room open, and threw herself on the floor. “I hate darkspawn. I hate the Deep Roads. I hate that fucking disgusting giant brood mother thing that, apparently, BIRTHS THE FUCKING DARKSPAWN, and I really, really hate that we did all of this for an idiot to sit his ass on a throne.” 

“Have you finished?” Morrigan asked flatly, not even bothering to peer over her book. The Warden sighed deeply and nodded her head before sitting up and turning to look at Leliana.

“Leli, love, what did you manage to find out about the candidates? Anything useful?”

“Next to nothing, I’m afraid. We do know that Harrowmont is well liked but very conservative, and Bhelen is hotheaded. In fact, there are rumours that he murdered his siblings and his father for a place on the throne. He does want to change things significantly, particularly when it comes to trade. In reality, I don’t think one is much better than the other. The council will ultimately make the decision though, no?”

“Uh, actually, it’s kind of our decision now.” Cousland said, burying her face into her hands. Morrigan’s curiosity was piqued, and she set her book down. 

“What do you mean by our decision? ’Tis not something I think we’d get a say in.”

“Oh. Oh, we do. We do now, anyway.” 

“Found the paragon, then?”

“Nah, Branka is dead. That’s a… long and complicated story I don’t really want to get into right now. To put it simply, I now have a crown forged by Caridin himself to give to whomever I decide should sit on the throne.” 

“Oh.” Morrigan and Leliana said simultaneously. 

“Yeah. I’m at the point where I’m just going to flip a coin.”

“’Tis not the worst idea you’ve ever had.” Morrigan tossed her a coin. “Go on, decide. The sooner you do, the sooner we leave.” 

"Hah, fine. Heads for Harromount, tails for Bhelen." She flipped the coin, and caught it as it fell onto the back of her hand. 

Heads.   

• • • 

"Well, Orzammar was a damn shitshow. It's so good to be breathing fresh air again. You alright there, dwarf?" Cousland smiled at Oghren, who was practically digging his feet in the ground. 

"Heh, I feel like I'm going to fall up into that sky. There's so much of it." He took a breath and looked up into the sky, wincing at the brightness. "Anyone have a drink?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading! I'm really stoked that so many of you like this story, and I'm really enjoying writing it. I'm going to be trying to improve some formatting and redoing some of the chant verses to make it flow a little better, and also so I don't run out of verses. I might end up getting rid of them all together, depending on how long this story ends up actually being. 
> 
> This chapter, once again, ended up just being a way of setting things up for the next few. It'll be worth it. I promise. I got you. I know what you want. I want the same, it's all good. Unfortunately my internet situation is still not the greatest so I was unable to do as much research as I usually would for this chapter, so if there are any obvious mistakes when it comes to lore let me know! 
> 
> UPDATE: Added verses for this and the next few chapters, as well as changed some of the old ones around. (Jul 29 15)
> 
> Thank you for all of the kudos and comments too! You guys are the best. 
> 
> xx Mictec


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for such a short chapter, and the long wait.  
> My life is... kind of in shambles right now, and I've had crazy writer's block as a result.  
> Hope it's a good one. Your comments and kudos keep me going, guys. I'm glad it's been enjoyable so far. <3
> 
> xx Mictec

 

For winter, summer...

 

One week on the road to Redcliffe, and four more days to go. The weather was changing; spring gave into the hot, muggy days of the Ferelden summer. The humidity made their clothes stick to their skin, and sweat constantly trickled down their faces. Shale and Hank were the only ones unfazed by the weather. Alistair and Cousland complained constantly. Zevran mentioned that it reminded him of home, how he never thought that he’d particularly miss the feeling of constant wetness (throwing in an innuendo or two, of course), but that it allowed him to wear his beloved leathers instead of the thick furs they had all been wearing while in the Frostbacks. Morrigan was also relieved by the change in weather, shedding the coat she was wearing for her familiar robes. Leliana, who was intently staring at the witch’s back as she did so, quietly thanked the Maker. She found herself absent-mindedly licking her lips as she watched a bead of sweat roll down Morrigan’s neck. The witch felt Leliana’s eyes on her, and a grin spread across her face, hidden from the other woman’s view. She erased the smile, arched her eyebrow, and turned to face Leliana, whose gaze did not falter - much to Morrigan’s disappointment.

“What, Leliana?”

“You are very beautiful, Morrigan.” She said, while moving closer to the witch.

“Tell me something I do not know.” Morrigan scoffed. Leliana hummed and placed her fingers on the deep purple fabric.

“But you always dress in such rags.” Morrigan’s brow furrowed and her mouth opened, as if to protest, but Leliana cut her off. “It suits you, I suppose. A little tear here…” she lightly touched a small tear in the fabric, atop Morrigan’s shoulder, and moved her hand down further, ghosting over Morrigan’s exposed skin until it reached another hole on the left side of her blouse. “a little rip there to show some skin. I understand.” Morrigan swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. She felt vulnerable, uneasy. She had been acutely aware of her attraction to Leliana (as much as she tried to ignore it) and this was pushing it to the forefront of her mind. Her composure remained, however, and she chuckled, shaking her head at Leliana.

“You understand I lived in a forest, I hope.” The bard ignored her.

“Maybe we could get you in a nice dress one day. Silk. No, maybe velvet.” Leliana hummed again, her fingers still lingering. “Velvet is heaver, better to guard against the cold in Ferelden. Dark red velvet, yes. With gold embroidery.” She absent-mindedly licked her lips again, and smiled before continuing. “It should be cut low in the front of course - we don’t want to hide your… features.” Morrigan’s mouth hung open, and she could feel a blush threatening to rise to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and swallowed hard.

“Stop staring at my breasts like that. ’Tis most disturbing!” Leliana’s eyes snapped up, meeting Morrigan’s.

“You don’t think so? And if it’s cut low in the front, we must put your hair up to show off that lovely neck.” Leliana brushed her fingers against Morrigan’s throat, who suddenly found herself at a loss for words. She took a deep breath, and stepped back, poorly attempting to collect her thoughts.

“Y-you are insane. I would sooner let Alistair dress me!”

“Hah, it’ll be fun, I promise! We’ll get some shoes too! Ah, shoes. We could go shopping together.”

“Even if the Blight does not consume the world, I would not subject myself to such torture willingly.”  
A branch snapped, and Cousland was bright red, embarrassed that her attempt to quietly back away from the two women had failed. Morrigan scoffed, threw her hands up, and stomped off. The Warden straightened her back and walked towards Leliana, clearly trying to restrain a laugh.

“You need to work on your stealth.”

“I know.” Cousland barely managed to get out before laughing. “Maker, that was something.”

“How long were you there?”

“Oh I showed up right when you put your hand on her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so conflicted but so clearly flustered.”

“Alistair?”

“Touché. I was actually coming by to let you know that we’re going to find a place to set camp around here, but I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt.” She chuckled again when Leliana nudged her. "The weather’s been harsh. All the snow that’s melting off the mountains has made it hard to find a decent place that isn’t muddy. You’d think it’d be over by the end of spring, but apparently not.”

“Hah. I can scout ahead with Zevran, see if there’s a clearing we can use.”

“Thanks, Leli. I’ll feed the oxes then round everyone up. Signal if you need us.”

• • •

  
“Well, it isn’t dry but the river is a plus.” Cousland was looking over the area they decided to make camp at. It was a very small clearing, just next to the river, and close enough to the road. They had started setting up when the first arrow flew past Leliana’s head, and hit one of the posts she was using to pitch her tent. The second arrow pierced her thigh, and she screamed in pain. The third hit her abdomen. The others were quick to react. Swords, daggers, and staffs were quickly grabbed, and Leliana limped over to her bow. More men appeared from the surrounding area, and rapidly closed on the group. Flashes of steel and lightning gave way to blood, and arrows flew through the air. The mercenaries were quickly felled, Leliana being the only one seriously injured. Morrigan noticed the leader scrambling on the ground, trying to stand. She raised her staff, ready to strike him down, when Leliana told her to stop.

“Let me kill him and be done with it, Leliana.” She said through her teeth.

“Not yet. He is no common bandit. None of them were. Their weapons and armour are of fine make, and they are clearly well-trained.” She moved her gaze to the mercenary, who was shaking in his boots. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Who are you?”

“S-someone who regrets taking you on. Was told it would be an easy job. Kill the little red-haired girl, deal with the others as we pleased.”

“Kill the…you came to kill me?”  
Cousland stepped as close to him as she could, and looked him dead in the eye. “Who is trying to kill Leliana?”

“It don’t pay to ask why someone wants someone else dead. I just need to know what to do and where to get my money. Hah, money. I’ll be lucky to get away with my life, it seems. Maybe we could work something out. You’ll like the idea.”

“Speak quickly.”

“I’ve no real quarrel with you. Wasn’t me that wanted you dead, but I know how to find the one who does.”

“Your life for information, then.” Cousland said, and took a step backward.

“I’ve some directions written down on how to get to the house. It’s in Denim. Here… it’s the best I can do.” Leliana took the paper from him and studied it carefully.

“Thank you. Now leave. I never want to see you again.”  
The man hobbled away as quickly as he could. Leliana’s breathing grew shallow, and she was pale from losing so much blood. She gripped the arrow and started to push it the rest of the way through her thigh, clenching her teeth to try and dull the pain. Morrigan gently placed her hand on top of Leliana’s.

“Allow me.” She whispered, and Leliana just nodded, and rested her head on Morrigan’s shoulder. Morrigan tightened her grip and pushed it the rest of the way, feeling Leliana tense against her. She broke off the tip to inspect it. “Poison.”  
Leliana looked at Cousland and let out a tired laugh. “Marjolaine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She said, before fainting.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm amazed I was able to write this and post this so quickly. I just finished writing the previous chapter last night, and here I am posting another one. It's a good one. I pinky promise. 
> 
> xx Mictec

 

For darkness, Light.

_-Threnodies 5:5_

 

Morrigan sighed as she gently applied a salve to Leliana’s wounds. She was in bad shape. Zevran had been able to craft an antidote for the poison, and Wynne’s magic kept the wounds from festering, but at this point Leliana’s body needed to heal on its own.  
Leliana’s eyes fluttered open, and she slowly opened her mouth.

“Morrigan?” She asked weakly.

“You are awake. Good. Have some water, you are dehydrated.” She put down the salve and raised a small cup to Leliana’s lips, who drank slowly. She coughed, and gave Morrigan a small, grateful smile.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Three days. Four now, technically.”

“Oh.” Morrigan nodded, and placed a wet cloth on Leliana’s forehead.

“You have been running a fever. It has gone down over the past day, but I still need to keep you cool. Leave that on your forehead.” Morrigan said before continuing to apply the salve.

“Hmm, what is that, Morrigan?” The bard asked, wincing when the witch’s fingers pressed against the wound on her abdomen.

“’Tis a salve I made. Elfroot and Andraste’s Grace, to soothe the pain and keep it free of infection.”

“Andraste’s Grace.” Leliana repeated to herself. “It reminds me of my mother.”

“Your mother?” Morrigan had never heard the woman speak of her mother before, she realised.

“Yes.” Leliana hummed sadly. “She died when I was very young. The Lady Cecil took me in afterwards. She treats me kindly, took me to balls, dressed me well. It was at one of those balls, when I was a teenager, that I met Marjolaine.” Morrigan turned to look at Leliana, whose eyes were tinged with a sadness she had never seen, nor expected to ever see on her face, and she couldn’t ignore the twinge of pain that rushed through her heart. “She taught me how to play the Game. I learned how to read people, and how to hide myself. I learned to fight, and kill, and bat my eyelashes to get what I  wanted. I loved her, at one point. She betrayed me. Framed me for a crime because I confronted her about it. The guards threw me in jail. They tortured me, raped me, killed my friend. A kind woman saved me, and took me to Mother Dorothea. She took me in. She saved me. In return I stayed with her, became a cloistered sister, devoted myself to the Maker.” She was crying now, her body shaking and riddled with pain. “I thought I was free of her, but here I am.” Morrigan removed the cloth from Leliana’s forehead, and pushed a few strands of her fiery hair out of her eyes. She wiped away the sweat and tears, and ran a thumb along her cheek.

“We will find her, Leliana.” _And she will not get away again_. 

• • •

  
Two days later, Leliana’s wounds were almost completely healed. A combination of Morrigan’s salve and further use of Wynne’s magic healed the tissue, but a soreness and some bruising remained. The color returned to her cheeks, and she was smiling, but Morrigan and the Warden were aware of the underlying sadness she felt.  
One night, after they finished setting up camp, Leliana wandered into Morrigan’s tent, clutching onto something tightly. Morrigan was reading over her notes, and comparing it to some findings she had made in the grimoire, and didn’t even bother to look at who entered her tent.

“My tent is far for a reason. ’Tis not an invitation for you to come bother me. Now leave.” She said, flicking her wrist towards the door.

“Morrigan?” Leliana’s voice was soft, fragile, almost a whisper, and Morrigan’s frown disappeared. She set the grimoire aside and stood to face the redheaded woman. “I spoke to Cousland. She told me she could hardly get you to leave me while I recovered.”

“Well I -“

“You do not need to say anything. I merely wanted to thank you.” She handed Morrigan the object in her hands, wrapped loosely in cloth. Morrigan took it, and quirked an eyebrow at Leliana as she began to unwrap it. Her breath caught in her throat as the cloth fell away, and she held the mirror in her hands, carefully studying it.

“It is… just the same as the mirror Flemeth smashed on the ground, so long ago. It is incredible that you found one so like it. I am uncertain what to say.” She looked at Leliana, who was smiling at her. “You must wish something in return, certainly.”

“What? No, Morrigan. It is a gift.”

“You say that as if I should be accustomed to such a thing. I have… never received a gift, not one which did not come at a price.”

“Morrigan…” Leliana moved her hand to place it atop Morrigan’s, but she hesitated, allowing it to hover for a few seconds before finally lowering it. She traced tiny circles around Morrigan’s hand with her thumb, and the witch turned hers upward, and entwined her fingers. “I did not give this to you because I want something in return. I gave it to you because I care about you. I found it in Orzammar, while I was gathering information. I saw it and I thought of you.” Morrigan could feel her heartbeat quicken. She was close enough to Leliana to feel her breath, to smell her; the scent of Andraste’s Grace and Elfroot still clung to her skin.  
She looked down at the bard, who was blushing so slightly, she almost missed it. Leliana was studying their hands, how their fingers, rough and calloused, fit together almost perfectly. And Morrigan? Well, she was fighting a losing battle, and she knew it.

“Leliana?”

“Yes?” She looked up at the witch, who pressed her lips against hers in a chaste, but lingering kiss. When Morrigan pulled away, Leliana’s eyes were closed, and she used her free hand to touch her lips before opening them. Morrigan’s heart sunk, worried that she had completely misread the situation, and breathed a sigh of relief when Leliana cupped her cheek.

“Thank you. 'Twas a thoughtful gift.” Morrigan managed to say. Leliana chuckled.

“That was a nice way of thanking me.” She ran her thumb over the witch’s bottom lip. “May I?” Morrigan simply nodded in return, and Leliana pulled her in for another kiss. She reveled in the taste, and the feeling of Morrigan against her, who dropped the mirror onto her bedroll, and wrapped her arms around Leliana’s waist. The kiss ended soon after, but they stayed there, foreheads pressed against each other, trying to catch their breath again, until Leliana removed herself from Morrigan’s embrace. She took the witch’s hand, and kissed it before leaving with a “good night” and a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their first kiss. Awww yissss.
> 
> UPDATE: Added a chant verse for this and the past three chapters. The verse for this and the previous two are from the same section of the chant, and it fit all three really well, so I split it up.  
> Also went through and cleaned up a bunch of mistakes I noticed. Damned autocorrect will be the death of me.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap you guys! Almost 100 kudos. That's incredible. Thank you so much for your support.   
> I'd also like to offer my apologies; I've not sat and planned any of this out so I literally just write whenever I can.   
> I've got a bunch going on right now between work, school, and my home life, so I have had no time whatsoever. So this is a short chapter. But I think you'll like it. I hope you do. 
> 
> xx Mictec

By My Will alone is Balance sundered

And the world given new life.

 

_-Threnodies 5:6_

 

 

Morrigan did not find sleep easily that night. She lay upon her bedroll, studying the delicate details of the mirror; the feeling of Leliana’s lips still faintly lingering on her own. There was something brewing within Morrigan that she could not understand. She did not have a name for it. Her mother had taught her of desire once before, but as she did with so many things, Flemeth trivialised it. So what was this feeling that was slowly building within her? She scoffed, put the mirror aside, and forced her eyes closed in the hopes that she wouldn’t dream of the mischievous redhead that had started to worm her way into her heart. 

 

In the morning, she walked outside to see Wynne bent over a fire, Alistair and Cousland idly chatting, and Sten sharpening his weapons with Zevran. Morrigan walked to the fire and smiled, brief and warm, at Leliana as she passed by her and sat on a log. Alistair scrunched his nose up at the witch when she looked up at him, and he continued to stare at her. 

“Have a care where your eyes linger, Alistair.” 

“Yes, well, don’t worry. It’s not what you think."

“I see."

“I was looking at your nose."

“And what is it about my nose that captivates you so?"

“Well, I was just thinking that it looks _exactly_ like your mother’s."

“I hate you so much.” She mumbled to herself, too busy plotting her revenge to notice that Leliana was now standing behind her. The bard placed her hands on Morrigan’s shoulders and leaned in close. 

“I just so happen to think your nose is very cute.” Leliana whispered to her before planting a small kiss on the tip of the nose in question. A blush spread across Morrigan’s face, and Alistair’s was twisted with absolute horror. 

"Is there a problem, Alistair?" The witch said, smirking. 

"Maker, I think I'm going to be sick." 

“Good.” Morrigan said quickly. Leliana squeezed her shoulder and leaned in to whisper to her again. 

“Morrigan, I… think we need to discuss what happened last night."

“Discuss it? I don’t think there is anything to discuss.” She folded her arms and looked at the bard, who just glared at her. “Ugh. Very well. Let us go somewhere we will be able to talk freely without this,” she motioned towards Alistair, "choir boy gawking at us.” Leliana nodded in return. 

They walked towards the river, and Morrigan couldn’t keep her hands still. She balled them into fists, and opened them again repeatedly until they reached their destination. 

“Morrigan, I know I have been obvious in my flirtation with you but I need to know that you did not kiss me because you felt obligated to do so. I gave you that mirror as a gift, and I truly did not want or need anything in return. I know I told you all this last night, but I need to be certain that you believe me.” Morrigan sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Truly, Leliana? I do not know why I did so. ’Tis something I have been trying to figure out for myself, but no, I did not do so because I felt obligated. It simply felt like it was… the right thing to do, at that moment."

“Then you care for me, Morrigan?"

“I feel… something, though I cannot say for certain what it is. ’Tis confusing, at best.” 

"And at worst?"

"Irritating."

“I see.” Leliana shifted her feet, and Morrigan picked up on her disappointment. 

“However, if we were to turn this into something more… intimate, I would not be opposed.” Leliana looked up at Morrigan and smirked. 

“Is that so?” 

“ _Oh, no_ , I am just saying such things because I wish to rile you up." Morrigan said, voice laced with sarcasm, hoping she could mask her nervousness. Leliana glared at her, and Morrigan picked up on her need to be serious. She sighed and moved closer to the bard. “If I am to speak honestly, Leliana, I have found myself to be intrigued by this, by you. You are certainly much more than the pretty-faced chantry girl you try to make us believe you are, though you are still as annoying as that front.” Leliana chuckled and began to play with Morrigan’s hand. 

“Pretty-faced, huh?” 

“Is that really all you got out of that?” Morrigan scoffed. "You are insufferable.” 

“If you really felt that way, then you would not be here right now.” She took the witch’s other hand. “And you would not have offered to make things more, intimate, as you said.” Morrigan found herself being drawn closer to the woman, until their lips were almost touching. Leliana’s hand found her neck, and pulled her closer. “An offer I will gladly take you up on.” She said, before closing the distance and bringing Morrigan in for a searing kiss, a kiss the witch was more than happy to return. It was unhurried, deep, and it made Morrigan’s knees go weak, and her body alight with desire. But all good things must come to an end, and Leliana pulled away, leaving Morrigan hovering in the empty space where her lips once were. “Come, Morrigan. We’re leaving today, no? We should go back and help the others.” Leliana said far too cheerily for Morrigan, who groaned in response. 

“If we must. I expect this to continue later, however."

“If you’re good.” The bard winked and sauntered back to the campsite, Morrigan in tow, where Cousland met them with a knowing look.  

“I saw that, you two. A kiss like that would surely light my knickers on fire.” The Warden quipped. 

“If you decide to spy on us again, lady Cousland, I shall set your knickers aflame myself.” Morrigan returned. 

“My apologies, Morrigan. I did not mean to do so. I merely wanted to gather some water.” She smiled at the women. “I did not, however, want to ruin your fun. So I’ll just… go do that now.” She ran off towards the river, flask in hand, and Morrigan just sighed and shot a tired look at Leliana. 

“’Tis truly a wonder I have not yet set something of hers ablaze."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the best. Here's another chapter. Chantry quote to be added later. 
> 
>  
> 
> xx Mictec

As they neared Redcliffe, Morrigan suddenly stopped. She could feel the corruption in the air, taste the remnants of powerful magic that lingered over the nearby village. She clutched her staff tighter, and caught up with the group. She watched Leliana, whose usual carefree demeanour turned sour, her hands were fists, and her jaw clenched tightly. She felt it as well. 

A villager, frantic and wide-eyed ran towards them. Words spilled out of his mouth faster than they could keep up with, but he confirmed that Redcliffe was in danger. 

“Bann Teagan is in the Chantry, my lady. I can lead you there it’s not far, we-"

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you. I know the way. Keep yourself out of danger.” Alistair quickly interrupted, and leaned towards the Warden to whisper as soon as the villager left. “I need to speak to you."

“Alistair, now isn’t really the time."

“It is, actually. I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid you’d see me differently.” Cousland tilted her head and raised a questioning eyebrow. Alistair went on to explain that he was of royal blood. The half-brother of the late king, to be exact. Which made Bann Teagan and Arl Eamon his uncles. He was frightened that his companions would see him differently, but was relieved when Morrigan scoffed, and the Warden simply pointed her thumb at the village. 

“After you, your majesty.” Cousland said with a wink that made Alistair groan. 

 

They met with Bann Teagan in the middle of the chantry. He explained the situation as quickly as he could, and begged the Warden for her help, who immediately assured him that they would do all they could for Redcliffe. 

“How pointless to help these villagers fight an impossible battle. I would think we had enough to contend with elsewhere."

Leliana shot Morrigan a murderous look, and waited until they were outside to speak to her. 

“How could you say such a thing, Morrigan? Helping these people is the right thing to do."

“Is it? We could be on our way to Denerim by now, to strike Loghain down before he turns more people against us. What if this battle kills us? What then, Leliana? The Blight will swallow the world. I am simply looking at this from a practical point of view, and I would not expect you to see that.” 

“Maker’s breath, Morrigan. Of course I see that. Have you no sympathy for these people? Have you no heart?"

Morrigan scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. “’Tis not that I am unsympathetic, Leliana, but I think it would be a useless battle. And if I truly was some heartless shrew, you would not bother to give me the time of day, now would you?” She stomped off and left them to make preparations for the upcoming battle. 

 

• • • 

 

“By the fucking stone, they’re everywhere!” Oghren yelled as he smashed his hammer into the skull of one of the undead. 

“Keep holding out! We’re almost done here. Zevran, position yourself for the next wave, use the poison bombs. Alistair, I need you and Sten to drive them back as much as you can so Zev can hit them; I’ll be by your side. Shale, I need you to cover Wynne and Leliana. Dig your heels in, don’t let them best us.” The sound of screeches and moans came from the direction of the castle. "To your positions! Now!" They did as they were told, and took their positions as quickly as possible. The villagers were rambling amongst themselves, trying to ease each other's nerves. Then the footsteps came. Quiet at first, before growing into something that damn near resembled thunder. The undead, or what was left of them, were about to hit them with all they had. 

Leliana gritted her teeth and notched an arrow. At the first sight of the undead, with their sickly grey skin barely hanging off frail bones, she anchored it. 

Pulled. 

Released. 

She took two down in a manner of seconds, but the horde was too dense for her to make much of an impact on her own. Luckily, the warriors were thinning them out enough for her to be able to pick them off as they strayed. Eventually, she ran out of arrows and had to make a mad dash to the Chantry, where they kept extras by the stairs. Before she could get there, one of the vile corpses grabbed her ankle and tripped her, knocking the wind out of her lungs. She reached for her dagger, and slashed at it to no avail. Then, out of nowhere, a single bolt of lightning tore its way through rancid flesh, destroying the corpse. Morrigan stood where the undead once did and hoisted Leliana back to her feet. 

"Thank you." 

"You need not mention it. Now, go. Clearly you are useless without your arrows, and I would not like for you to die tonight." Leliana nodded in response and ran off, while Morrigan covered her. 

 

 

The battle drew on for nearly two hours, but they were able to cut down all of the undead with minimal casualties. Five villagers perished, too overconfident for their own good. Aside from a few cuts and bruises, the Warden's party made it through the night unscathed. 

 

Cousland approached Morrigan while she braided her hair, trying her best to keep it out of her face. Morrigan was too busy crushing elfroot to make a salve for herself (and for Leliana, but she wouldn't dare to admit it) to notice the Warden's approach, but she has grown so accustomed to the woman's presence that she was able to sense it. 

"So, Morrigan, still think this was a losing battle?" 

"'Twas not the battle I was concerned about, 'Twas the fact that we are wasting our time."

"I see. Have you talked to Leliana yet? I haven't seen her since sunrise."

"What is there to talk about?" Morrigan huffed, and Cousland did the same. 

"Morrigan, you walked away from her. From all of us, right before we went into battle. Do you not see what that looks like?" 

"And I should be so concerned with what she thinks, should I?"

"Oh, Maker give me patience." Cousland muttered under her breath. "Yes, Morrigan, you damn well should. You care for her, anyone can see that no matter how hard you try to hide it. Which you aren't actually doing very well, honestly. The way you look at her sometimes...but that's besides the point. Don't hurt her." 

"Hurt her? How could I possibly hurt her? We are merely close on a physical level. Or what did you expect? That we are intimate in other ways? That we share our feelings? No, Warden. Lust is all I feel towards woman, nothing more."

"You really are clueless, aren't you? Sort yourself out, Morrigan. Figure out what it is you want because I swear on Andraste's bloody arse I will kill you if you hurt her. Finish up, we leave for the castle after I speak to Teagan. 

 

Morrigan stared into the bowl at the mushy green paste, and found herself thinking about Cousland's words. She shook her head and tossed the pestle aside. "Foolish, foolish, woman. I cannot let this go on."

She would speak to Leliana as soon as they had a moment to themselves again.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit nsfw, but not really. Fair warning anyway. My laptop is being a whiny lil thing right now so I'm posting through my phone. Which means I'll have to reformat later. For now I just want you to have this chapter because you're A++
> 
> Enjoy.  
> xx Mictec

Morrigan woke in the middle of the night, in pitch darkness. Her clothes, sticky from the wet heat of the summer, clung to her back as she sat up. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out any details of the room she was in. It was simple and decorated with what you'd generally expect to find in a chantry; statuettes of Andraste carved from stone and dipped in gold, and banners with the sunburst, bold and bright in yellow against a tired red. 

She hated being here.

The witch stood, igniting a fire in her palm small enough to illuminate her immediate surroundings, but soft enough to not disturb those who were still sleeping soundly in the temporary shelter that was offered to them. She walked around the room, studying the sleeping faces of her companions. 

Leliana's cot was empty. She found the redhead outside the walls of the chantry, sitting on the ground with her knees tucked underneath her chin, staring at her feet. Her head was leaning against the cold, dark stone; hair standing out brightly against it. The single braid she wore was unraveled, and her eyes sunken in from lack of sleep. Morrigan approached her quietly and settled next to her, choosing to simply rest her back against the stone instead of sit on the ground next to the bard.   

"I see you are having trouble finding sleep as well." Morrigan said, a little too softly for her liking. Leliana was too exhausted to go about the usual banter, and so she answered the witch in short. 

"Yes." Leliana's gaze never left her feet. 

"'Twas too hot for my liking. I could not stay asleep." The redhead only hummed in agreement. A silence washed over them, and though it was hardly comfortable, neither of them ran. Eventually Morrigan gave in and sat next to the bard, letting out a discontented sigh. "My mother instilled in me the importance of being practical and analytical to ensure success. She taught me, as you know, that love is amongst the greatest of weaknesses. Compassion less so, but she still frowned upon it. Still, I am human and I do feel, though I am sure Flemeth would have preferred me to not have developed a mind of my own and just be the helpless vessel for her soul she so desired." She paused for a breath and stole a quick glance at Leliana, who seemed to be studying her shoes even more intensely. "I am not sorry for what I said, and I never will be, but even you saw my reasoning." Leliana was looking at her now, her expression almost unreadable to Morrigan. "I am sorry for storming off. 'Twas childish." 

"Obviously you never went far." 

"No." Morrigan's head was tilted back, and her eyes were bright with the reflection of the moon she was so enamoured with. She hadn't noticed that Leliana was now leaning towards her, reaching for her cheek until she was pulled in for a kiss, gentle but searing. The bard, as she usually did in these situations, took the lead and coaxed Morrigan's mouth open with her tongue. The witch moaned softly against the redhead's mouth, and became lost in the feeling of Leliana's tongue. She felt it as it pushed past her lips, and grazed the tips of her teeth, before finding her own and finding a steady rhythm. She never knew another person could be so intoxicating, and yet she found herself dizzying more and more as each moment passed, and it felt like a high she had never experienced before. She wanted more, craved it even. So when Leliana broke the kiss, she protested with a short low-pitched whine that was abruptly changed to a deep moan when Leliana straddled her and licked her way up her neck before attaching their lips together once again. Morrigan's hands were sliding underneath the flimsy tunic that hung loosely off of Leliana's shoulders. She felt incredibly warm, and so, so soft despite the hardened muscle underneath her skin. They traveled up her back, only pausing when she reached a particularly terrible scar; one of many cracks in fine marble. She felt Leliana tense and suck in a breath as her fingers traced over it, so she pulled her closer until their bodies were crushed against each other, and moved her hands elsewhere. Leliana's body eased, and she continued her exploration until the bard abruptly pulled her lips away. 

"As much as I'd like to have you now, Morrigan, this is not the place for it. We'd be better off waiting until I could get you out of these," she tugged at Morrigan's clothes "entirely, no?" Morrigan scoffed and leaned in for another kiss, which Leliana expertly dodged. "Uh-uh-uh, I don't think so." She looked at Morrigan, her eyes filled with lust, and something the witch had only seen one other time in her life - adoration. The bard pushed Morrigan's hair out of her face and placed a kiss on her forehead. "We'll get there soon enough." She stood and offered the brunette her hand. "Come, before the sun rises and the others wake to find us gone." 

 

They walked back to the chantry with their hands clasped together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The summary has finally been updated! Hurray! Annnd here's a new chapter because you're the best, and you deserve it. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> xx Mictec

Neither Leliana nor Morrigan got much sleep that night. Though their cots were on opposite sides of the room, the tension between them was still thick. Morrigan stared at the ceiling and absentmindedly played with the fraying fibre on the side of the cot, trying to keep herself from thinking of Leliana. She came to the realization that the naive chantry sister she was so quick to judge was so much more under the bubbly and bright exterior she showed to the world. It both excited and terrified her. 

 

Their companions rose with the sun. Fighting off the remainder of their grogginess, they all shuffled out of their room and into the chantry hall where the mothers, sisters and townspeople graciously shared their food, which Morrigan dubbed "better than Alistair's rabbit stew, but not by much."

 

 

It was decided, soon after their morning meal, that Cousland would be accompanied by Alistair, Wynne, and Zevran during their evaluation of the situation at Redcliffe Castle. Bann Teagan had not yet returned after leaving with the Arl's wife (whose long, drawn out and frankly annoying "Whoo eees dees woman, Teagan?" put Morrigan in a foul mood), and it was time to use the ring and passage he had revealed to them. 

 

While they were away, the remaining group helped the villagers dig pits on the outskirts of town to burn the undead in. A grisly, tedious task that Leliana did not take lightly, while Morrigan did as little as possible. She did, however, insist on being the one to light the pyres. Setting things on fire always brightened her day. 

 

Leliana went back to the chantry in the early evening to draw a bath and wash away the filth of the day. The smell of burning, rotted flesh was masked by the scented steam rising from the water. She melted into it. The soot and sweat that clung to her for most of the day fell off her body and rested at the bottom of the stone tub. 

 

Morrigan refused to speak, or so much as look at anyone throughout the day, save for the few times she glanced at Leliana. She noticed her sneak away, but was soon distracted by a wailing child, and did not follow.

 

After Leliana was satisfied with the amount of cleanliness she had achieved, she got dressed. She "borrowed" a loose brown tunic from Zevran (who she felt was one of the cleaner of the bunch), and threw it on, quietly thanking Andraste for allowing her a day without her armor. She walked outside and took a deep breath. The air still felt corrupted, but it was clearing quickly. She walked along the worn cobblestone path towards the tavern where she would surely find Oghren drowning himself in whatever swill he could get his grubby hands on. She had to admit that it was rather entertaining watching him attempt (and fail) to flirt with Sister Narce, who quickly turned him down and embarrassed him in the process. The only time she'd ever seen him that defeated is when Morrigan did the same. She noticed a small boy with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks sitting by the stream that ran through the village. He was smiling a great deal for someone who had most certainly been crying only moments before. She was curious, and walked closer to see what it was that had captivated him so. It was a cat. A small thing with rich black fur and...golden eyes? No. It couldn't be. Could it? She moved closer and kneeled next to the child. 

"I see you have made a friend. Cats are so cute, no?" The boy smiled at her and sniffled. "Though I think this cat," she tapped it on the head and recieved a glare in return, "is a very naughty one." The boy giggled and nodded his head. "Tell me, little bird, are you alright? What made you cry?" He pointed to the ripped fabric of his tiny trousers, where a skinned knee was exposed. "Oh, I see." She kissed the top of his head. "You will be just fine. Your little friend here will take care of you, no?" He vigorously nodded. "Good." She reached over and scratched the cat's head. It purred loudly an pushed its head firmly against her palm. Leliana laughed and started walking to the tavern again. 

 

She was on her second cup of a rich red wine that was imported from Nevarra, and in the middle of a heated discussion about shoes with a chantry sister she had known from Lothering when Morrigan made an appearance. She paid no attention to the blatant staring of the men (and more than one woman) in the tavern and made her way directly to the barkeep. She had to step over Oghren to get there. Leliana decided it was time to top up her glass and politely excused herself. She slid into the space between Morrigan and the wall, close enough so she was making contact with the witch, but with enough distance for it to be seen as acceptable. The way she leaned in to whisper in Morrigan's ear was less so. 

"That was very sweet of you, Morrigan." 

"I do not know what you speak of."

"Oh? I think you do. And I think that kind of behavior," she ran her index finger up Morrigan's exposed back, "deserves a reward." The witch's eyes closed and she tilted her head closer to the bard with a slight smile. 

"Is that so?"

"Yes, but we must leave quickly, before the others decide it is time to retire for the night. Or..."

"Or?"

"I am sure we could rent a room for very cheap."

"'Tis certainly not the worst idea you have ever had."

"Hmm, I am glad you think so. It's already been done. It will erase the worry of being found by one of our companions." She moved in closer. "Unless, of course, that is something that excites you." Morrigan chuckled lowly, and smiled in response. "Oh it does, doesn't it? That is something I will keep in mind for the future. For now, I want you to myself." 

"Then stop your annoying chatter and let us go, lest we squander this opportunity." 

 And with that Leliana led her to the room at the back of the tavern, ushered her inside, and locked the door behind them. 

 Ten silver well spent.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wink wink. 
> 
> Listen, I don't know if I can write smut, but things are probably going to get kind of steamy in the next chapter anyway. If you want smut, tell me in the comments, and I'll try my best. No promises, though. xoxo


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this is something I'd consider NSFW. Not smut, but it might make you blush a little bit. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> xx Mictec

As soon as the door clicked, Morrigan pushed Leliana against it. The witch's hands rested on Leliana's face, and she inched her mouth closer to her, allowing her to close the distance. It was all lips, and teeth, and tongue as they finally came together. Leliana guided Morrigan to the bed by slowly pushing her backwards. She straddled her, and ran her tongue along Morrigan's neck, catching a small bead of sweat that trickled down from her forehead. Her tongue tingled, and she figured it was due to the witch's sweat being laced with lyrium. 

It didn't take long for them to be skin-on-skin. Morrigan's hands ran down Leliana's back, and she paused when she came across the same deep scar she had felt the other night. She soon realized that the bard's back and stomach were covered with them. Most couldn't have been from combat. Leliana noticed the pause and just kissed Morrigan deeper, allowing one of her hands to travel further down the witch's stomach, and through the damp black hair between her legs. She wouldn’t let Marjolaine ruin a perfectly good thing for her again.  

 

They lay there after, a tangled heap of limbs, in a thoroughly satisfied haze. Morrigan, much to Leliana's surprise, nuzzled her nose against her neck. She did not move to wrap her arms around the bard, but she did not disentangle her legs from hers either. Leliana ran her fingers through Morrigan's hair, pushing the sweaty locks off her forehead. 

"You have beautiful hair. I don't think I've ever seen you wear it loose." 

"'Tis impractical, it would get in my eyes." Morrigan mumbled, her voice deep and hoarse from exhaustion. 

"Hmmm. I like it down. I didn't know it was so wavy." 

"Another reason I keep it tied. 'Tis rather unruly." 

"I see." She took a moment to study the witch. Her eyes were closed and a faint smile was on her lips. She could feel her breath tickle her neck. Morrigan looked incredibly at ease, and it tugged at Leliana's heart to see her this way. Away from the prying eyes of their companions and away from the trials they had faced to get to where they were at that moment. It was easy to be there. It was easy to forget the blight. 

Leliana raised her arms above her head and arched her back to stretch. She felt the warmth of Morrigan's arms wrap around her, and pull her back down. She didn't move for the rest of the evening. 

 

• • •

 

“Ah, yes, the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Andraste’s blessed, charred remains hidden away somewhere even the most devout of Andrastian scholars have been unable to locate. Not a waste of time at all. What would happen if we were to just abandon everything else just to find them, I wonder? Will these ashes cure the Blight as well?"

“That’s enough, Morrigan. I get it. It’s not the most practical of things, but it’s the only lead we’ve got."

“Not the most practical? Not the most practical, she says. It is perhaps the single most idiotic idea that has been proposed since my time traveling with you, and that is saying a lot.” Cousland pinched the bridge of her nose. It was taking everything in her power to not lash out at Morrigan, and tell her to leave. She knew Morrigan was right, but she couldn’t risk throwing away the chance to gain a very powerful ally. Aside from that, Alistair would never forgive her if she simply turned her back to Eamon and left him to die. Connor being possessed and causing all that chaos was more than enough to make her consider just leaving Redcliffe and never coming back… but she had to play her cards right. This was just another one she needed to figure out what to do with. 

“Lay off, Morrigan. We need to do this. I’m just as skeptical of it as you are, believe me. I’d be far more at ease if it was a sure thing, but it’s not, and we have to take it for what it is. If we don’t have Eamon on our side, we might lose this war. This is the only chance we’ve got. Leave if you’d like, but I would much, much rather you be by my side, my friend.” Morrigan took a deep breath and threw her hands up in defeat. She knew there was no way she could talk the Warden out of it now. 

“Very well. I will accompany you on this… ridiculous quest.” 

“Thank you, Morrigan.” Morrigan stepped out of the Chantry and found Leliana reading the chanter’s board. The witch placed her hand on Leliana’s lower back. 

“Hello, Morrigan.” She was smiling. “How are you feeling?"

“’Twas difficult to breathe within with all that self-righteousness crowding the air.” Leliana smacked her arm and Morrigan laughed. “Do you realize you have been smiling for hours, now?” The bard tittered and kissed the witch’s shoulder. 

“And now you are smiling again, too. What did our lovely Warden want?” Morrigan groaned and rubbed her forehead.

“’Tis something you will surely enjoy hearing much more than I. Cousland, or more like that git Alistair, believes that we should waste our precious time hunting down the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Eamon did not wake from his comatose state after they freed Connor of those demons."

“They want to… they want to look for the Urn of Sacred Ashes?"

“I am afraid so, yes."

“I never dreamed that… I… this is incredible.” Leliana was finding it hard to breathe at that moment, overwhelmed by the idea, but she calmed herself. Morrigan sighed and shook her head at the redhead. 

“’Tis a waste of our time, Leliana. We will simply be chasing a legend that is most certainly untrue and even you, though I know you believe in these…. these tales, are very much aware of that."

“Yes, of course, but Morrigan, could you imagine what would happen if we found it? It would be amazing!"

“If, Leliana. If. In the meantime, the Blight is consuming the world. What happens when it kills everything? I have already told Cousland that it is a waste of our time, but she will not listen. I assumed you would not either, so I will save my breath."

“Fine. Did she say when we leave?"

“In two nights.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winkwink. 
> 
> Cool, so, they did the do. About time, right? I've always thought of Morrigan as a bottom, and someone that (in their post-coital haze, and when they get comfortable with someone) enjoys to snuggle. She'd never admit it, of course. And probably threaten to roast Leliana's shoes if she told anyone. Hmm...
> 
> I apologize if this chapter feels rushed... that's because it was. I'm about to start a full time job this week, and I've got school (damn midterms) to deal with as well. Alsooooooo Fallout 4 is coming out so I'm probably going to be wasting (ha) all my free time doing that. I'm probably going to get a bit behind on this. But you never know! I never know. So. Anyway, I hope you dug this. You're the best. Yes, you. 
> 
> P.S. Julia Holter is damn good writing music.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marjolaine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit you guys, I am so sorry it's taken me so long to get this to you. Things have been absolutely crazy. It's actually 4am and I'm super sick (like I probably should have gone to the hospital yesterday but I'm alive so whatever), and I'm kind of iffy about this chapter...but here it is. Posting via my phone so formatting will probably be messed up. I'll fix it ASAP. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> xx Mictec

     “I have never seen such a collection of merchants and people before. ’Tis always so?” Morrigan gaped at the Denerim market, which was absolutely bursting with people. Clothing, food, art, weapons, amor, animals she had only read about - all here in the middle of a city.   
     “It is like this in most of the large cities I have been to, yes. Especially in Orlais. Oh, you should see the Val Royeaux summer market, it’s marvellous! It’s far bigger and much more colourful than this.”   
     “’Tis larger? I do not know how you would even manage navigating through it.” Morrigan shuddered at the thought. This was far more people than she would like to deal with as it was.   
     “You get used to it,” Leliana squeezed the witch’s hand. “These markets are my absolute favourite. I wonder if I could find some ribbon… my boots are too bland for my liking.” Morrigan rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop the subtle smile from appearing on her face. That woman and her shoes. 

The party had split into groups of two, to gather supplies and information. They were running out of rations, and tracking down someone that wanted to talk about Brother Genitivi was surprisingly difficult. Leliana insisted that she be the one to gather the rations, and Morrigan huffed and trailed behind her like a petulant child. She did not realize that the market would be so large, and she felt tiny beside Leliana, who navigated through it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She watched the red headed woman pick up fruits and smell them, gently pressing into them to see the ripeness, and smile to herself when she found something to her liking. The bartering was also something new to her. Morrigan had been buying fruits and vegetables from the same vendor in the small Chasind village on the outskirts of the wilds since she was a child. She would simply hand the older, dark-skinned woman a few silver pieces, and take the sack that was put together specifically for them. It was a deal Flemeth had struck with the family before Morrigan's birth. They were the only ones that were unafraid of the witches. The whole practice of picking, and bartering, and getting similar things at different stalls (because, really, what was the logic in buying vegetables from five different places if one place had them all) was strange indeed.

When they had finished purchasing the dried fruits and meat (along with some fresh items Leliana couldn’t resist), the bard grabbed Morrigan’s hand and led her to a merchant that was surrounded by fine garments, fabrics, and furs. She spent twenty minutes picking out the perfect shade of blue ribbon to complement her boots. They left the market unaware of the scrawny young man that followed them into the Gnawed Noble. 

  
“There is no fool like a drunken fool. My mother told me that once and I see ’tis true,” Morrigan said as they entered the tavern.   
“Come, Morrigan. Let us leave the rations in our room and find Cousland.”   
“Find Cousland? Why, I am sure we have time for… other activities.”   
“You are insatiable,” Leliana laughed and swatted the witch’s arm. Morrigan peppered kisses on the bard’s neck as she opened the door to their room at the back of the tavern.  
"'Tis nothing to be ashamed of. I am, after all getting-" Morrigan's sentence was cut off by a knife that narrowly missed her head and embedded itself into the wooden door frame.   
"Shite," the failed assassin muttered under his breath. He didn't have a chance to say anything else before Leliana had her dagger against his throat hard enough to pale the surrounding flesh.  
"Who sent you?" She demanded.   
"I think you know th' answer t' that, don't ya?"   
"Where is she?" A bead of blood trickled down the knife now.   
"Oooh I definitely can't tell you that. She'd 'ave my tongue displayed on 'er mantle if I did."   
"Tell me boy, are you afraid of spiders?" Morrigan interjected with a wicked grin. 

Turns out he was. 

• • • 

Morrigan readied her staff while Leliana picked the lock to the seemingly abandoned home just outside of the Denerim marketplace. Cousland, who absolutely refused to let Leliana and Morrigan confront Marjolaine on their own, was standing at the ready beside them.  
"Who the hell names someone after a fucking cake anyway? Marjolaine. Ridiculous, really," Cousland muttered to herself.   
The lock clicked, and Leliana stepped back, allowing Cousland to take point. She traded in her bow for her daggers tonight, knowing Marjolaine wouldn't dare part with her beloved bow...and bows don't do so well in a close quarters fight. Morrigan cast a shielding spell around the three of them just as Cousland opened the door. 

“Ah, Leliana! So lovely to see you again, my dear.” Marjolaine said, her voice dripping with a sickly sort of sweetness.   
“Spare me the pleasantries, I know you’re —“   
“Oh, you must excuse the shabby accommodations…I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with? This country smells like wet dog. Everywhere. I cannot get the smell out. Even now it is in my hair, my clothes… ugh."  
“Why are you here, Marjolaine?” Cousland snapped.   
“So business-like, your companion."  
“You framed me, had me caught and tortured. I thought that in Ferelden, I would be free of you, but it seems I am not. What happened to make you hate me so? Why do you want me dead so badly?” Leliana’s voice was steady, but Morrigan caught the way her hand kept clenching and unclenching, a nervous tick of hers.   
“Dead? Nonsense, I know you, my Leliana. I know what you are capable of. Four, five men…you can dispatch easily. They were sent to give you cause to come to me. And see? Here you are.”   
“What are you up to, Marjolaine? Why are you in Ferelden?"  
“In truth? You have knowledge that you can use against me. For my own safety, I cannot let you be. Did you think I did not know where you were? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana? ‘What is she up to?’ I thought. ‘The quiet life, the peasant clothes, hair ragged and messy like a boy… this is not her’. You were planning something, I told myself. So I watched… but no letters were sent. No messages. You barely spoke to anyone. Clever, Leliana, very lever. You almost had me fooled. But then you left the Chantry, so suddenly. What conclusion should I draw? You tell me."  
“You think I left because of you? You think I still have some plan for…. for revenge? You are insane. Paranoid!”   
“Oh, is that what you think?” Marjolaine focused her attention on Cousland and Morrigan, “If I were you, I would believe nothing she says. Not a one. She will use you. You look at her and you see a simple girl — a friend,” she looked more pointedly at Morrigan, “perhaps a lover, trusting and warm. It is all an act.”   
“I am not you, Marjolaine. I left because I didn’t want to become you."  
“Oh, but you are me. You cannot escape it. No one will understand you the way I do, because we are one and the same. Do you know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana? It is because you enjoyed the game; you reveled in the power it gave you. You cannot change or deny this."  
“You will not threaten me or my friends again, Marjolaine. I want you out of my life, forever.”   
“And you think you can kill me, like that? I made you, Leliana. I can destroy you just as easily."  
“No. You can’t, Marjolaine. Not anymore.”

Leliana threw her dagger at one of the Qunari guards, embedding it into his throat. Marjolaine ran to one of the attached rooms, grabbing and readying her bow as she fled. Three more mercenaries appeared, and threw themselves at the women, frantically trying to land a hit. Leliana was too fast, Cousland was too strong, and none of them dared get close to Morrigan, who just as easily took them down from a distance. Soon Leliana and Marjolaine were face to face, and Marjolaine finally understood that she could not win.   
"Leliana, Leliana. My sweet girl, why has it come to this?"   
"You resort to sweetness again, now that I have a dagger against your throat? How typical of you, Marjolaine."  
"Do you not see, Leliana? This is who you are, there is no hiding from it. This is what you were meant to be," Marjolaine smiled at her, while subtly reaching for the dagger at her hip. "You love this life, and yet you would leave it to wander around the doglands, with a wild bitch at your heels? You could have so much more. Come home, to Orlais. I forgive you, Leliana, after all of this."   
"Forgive me? Forgive me? After all you have done, you forgive me? I don't know why I am even bothering with this, with you," Leliana took a step back and lowered her dagger. "You are hardly worth my time, Marjolaine. I will show you this one mercy, and leave you with your life." Leliana turned to leave, and Marjolaine thrust forward, her dagger catching on the leather if Leliana's leather armor, before falling limply at her side, body impaled on Cousland's sword. She let out a choked gasp as the Warden pulled the metal out of her chest, and left her to bleed on the cold stone floor.   
Leliana paled, and sheathed her weapons. She flinched away from the hand Morrigan placed on her shoulder.  
"It's over. She's dead. She's dead because of me," she sighed and looked at Morrigan, purposefully ignoring Cousland's gaze. "I...I need some time to myself. We will talk later."   
Leliana fled the scene, eager to wash away the sticky warmth of the fresh blood on her hands and her heart. 

• • •   
Morrigan was unable to sleep. She drifted into various states of consciousness and unconsciousness, but she was never able to calm her mind enough to allow herself to sleep. She hated this, how damned worried she was about Leliana, how she allowed her to affect her this much. Love is fleeting. She tried to remind herself, though her own choice of words startled her. This was not love. Merely infatuation, lust. A strong friendship, at best...but, love? No. Of course not. She sat up in her bed, choosing to re-read parts of the Black Grimoire, despite being able to recall the passages in an instant. 

She was pulled from her studies by the click of the door. Leliana let herself in as quietly as possible, but abandoned caution as soon as she saw that Morrigan was awake.   
"'Tis about time you get back."  
"You say that as if you were worried about me."   
"Perhaps I was," Morrigan says, almost too quietly for Leliana to hear.   
"I was at the Chantry. I needed time to reflect."   
"And? What did the Maker have to say about all of this, I wonder?"  
"He said nothing to me, as I have come to expect."   
"I see," the witch sighed and lifted the sheets. "Come, Leliana. There is no doubt in my mind that you need rest." The bard hummed in agreement, and molded herself to Morrigan, as she had done in the nights before. She was safe, familiar, and yet unpredictable and fearsome. "She reminded me of Flemeth. The way she tried to use her words to latch onto you, to manipulate you. I am glad you are free of her as I am free of Flemeth. They are burdens we no longer have to carry on our shoulders, Leliana, as difficult as it may be. 'Tis a fact I must tell myself in order to sleep without the dreams that ordinarily find me."   
The fact that Leliana's presence chased away her nightmares was left unsaid. 

That revelation was for another time. 

 

 

  
 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished this chapter after rewriting it like, three times at least. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> xx Mictec 
> 
> P.S. I'm currently getting ready for a trip back to California so I'm probably not going to be writing much the entire time I'm home. I'll be gone for a little over a month. I'll also edit this if I have some time before I leave, but if the formatting is wonky and there's a bunch of mistakes, I sincerely apologize.

Trudging through the snow to get to a tiny village atop the mountainside was not how Morrigan planned to spend her evening. And yet, here she was, knee-deep in cold slush, half-melted by the midday sun. It was an unfortunate place to be, considering there were no suitable places to camp anywhere close by, and water starting to seep through her tusket boots. So, along she went, grumpily stabbing her staff in the ground to get better traction. She was completely focused on their goal, until she felt hot breath against her neck.   
“I think.. I think my feet are frozen, Morrigan."  
“What a tragedy that would be. I wonder, what shoes, if any, would you wear if you were to lose your toes to frostbite?"  
“I would most likely have to get them specially made, no? Perhaps with a wedge at the front to help balance me. I have seen it done before, for a woman who sought shelter in the Chantry only weeks before The Blight took Lothering. I didn’t even know until she removed her boot.” Leliana exhaled again, her breath visible in the cold. “I wonder what you would do if you lost your fingers to frostbite."  
“Leliana, the better question, I think, is what would you do if I lost my fingers to frostbite,” Morrigan deadpanned and got a light chuckle out of the bard.   
“What would I do, indeed. I would mourn them, but you still have a perfectly good mouth, no?” The witch stopped and gaped at Leliana, who kept walking, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. 

They eventually came to a stop about three-fourths of the way up the mountainside, where they found a small clearing. They pitched their tents and started a fire. Cousland and Hank shared some salted meat, while Alistair stirred some unidentifiable stew in a small pot. Morrigan thought Cousland wise to not have whatever the chantry boy was cooking up. Her stomach twisted in knots at the thought of having any of his wretched food. Luckily, she and Leliana had procured some food that did not make Morrigan think of flinging herself off the mountain, and so they ate together in a companionable silence within the walls of their shared tent. Morrigan was on first watch, and Leliana on last.   
When morning came, Leliana crept back to the tent and ran her fingers through Morrigan’s loose hair. A small smile played upon the witch’s lips and she reached out for the bard.   
“Morrigan,” Leliana said through a smile. “We need to get up.”  
“’Tis such an ungodly hour to be woken,” she slurred.   
“While I agree, we do need to leave soon."  
“No."  
“Morrigan,” Leliana warned.   
“No."  
“Fine. You have left me with no choice.” Leliana grabbed the furs that covered Morrigan, who slept in a flimsy nightshirt (no doubt stolen from Leliana) and long underwear. She straddled the witch and dug her fingers into her sides, rousing her from her sleep by causing her to laugh uncontrollably. “I wonder what people would say if they knew the fearsome Witch of the Wilds was ticklish like a schoolgirl, hm?"  
“Un-un-unhand me, vile woman!” Morrigan managed to get out through fits of laughter. “I am awake! I am awake!” Leliana placed a quick kiss on the witch’s forehead.   
“Good. Now get dressed. I’ll get us something to eat.”   
"She's lucky I didn't set her on fire," Morrigan mumbled to herself.  
• • •   
They reached the gates of Haven just before midday. It was ominously quiet, save for the crunching of the snow and twigs beneath their feet.   
“’Tis a quiet enough village. Looks can be deceiving, of course,” said Morrigan.  
“Yes but It’s too quiet here, I don’t like this,” Leliana started. “Something’s not right, I can feel it."  
“I’ve never heard of any village out this way. Is this place even on a proper map?” Alistair asked.  
“’Twas not on any map I have ever studied. I cannot claim to know this area well, but I can say that this is surely an anomaly.” They walked further up the slope, and entered the village. It was… deserted. It appeared that way at least, due to the lack of people. But there was well-kept livestock and plants, and the houses looked like they were in no state of decay, so it was inhabited. They came to a stop at the bottom of the hill towards the back of the village. Zevran tilted his head to the side and scratched his chin.  
“Do you hear it? Singing from the chantry. The entire town, from the sounds of it,” the assassin said.  
“It sounds like they are singing the Chant in there. Maybe we should have a look,” Leliana added.   
“Ah. So everyone is within the chantry. How lovely for them,” Morrigan said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.   
Cousland took point and opened the door to the Chantry. Their hunch was right. The Chantry was occupied by most (if not all) of the villagers. The man that stood at the front of the room introduced himself as Father Eirik. He and the villagers put up quite a fight. While they had hoped it would not come down to violence, the cult members and their leader were very devout indeed. 

They found Brother Genitivi badly beaten behind a false wall in the chantry. No doubt he had stumbled upon a secret the people of Haven were bent on protecting. He explained that he came across mentions of this village in some old texts he had recovered, and his research pointed him in this direction. A large temple sat on top of the mountain, just to the east of Haven. Genitivi claimed that Andraste's Ashes would be within the inner sanctum. 

Before they found the ashes, they found another cult. This one was of the crazed, dragon blood drinking variety.  
"You know, for once, I would just love to go somewhere and not get ambushed by insane cultists. Just...just once."   
"Ah it seems Alistair and I have come to an agreement at last. I find that incredibly unnerving." Morrigan said.  
"Seems like we can make that two agreements," Alistair mumbled under his breath. "How in the hell are we going to take out that dragon? It's blocking our way to the ashes"   
"Hell if I bloody know. I think about it this way: we took down Flemeth, so this should be a piece of cake now." Cousland said with a sigh.   
"''Twas quite a feat to take out Flemeth, yes. You must keep in mind, however, that this beast will be far more unpredictable. Flemeth was very calculated when she fought, as a beast or as a woman. The dragon that is outside, dare I call her Andraste herself, is very much a wild thing, no matter how tame it appeared to be around the men who pacified it." She paused and looked at the cultists they had killed only minutes earlier. "Though I predict the beast will let us pass if we have their scent on us. I cannot say if their clothes will suffice, we may have to use their blood," Morrigan exaggerated her point by nudging the leader's corpse with her staff.  
"What?! Gods, Morrigan, that's disgusting," said Alistair. His nose was scrunched up in a way that Morrigan found quite amusing.   
"'Twas merely a suggestion. Besides, you have been covered in much worse, have you not? Or is that just your natural scent I catch when you're standing downwind?" Oghren chuckled and was on the receiving end of Alistair's dirty look.

They all agreed on camping inside the temple for the night to retain some strength and ensure they'd all have enough energy to fight the dragon come morning. It was too dark to see much of anything at this point, so it was for the best. The heat of the fire wasn't being carried away by the wind for once, and for that Leliana was thankful. She had lain out her clothes to dry next to a smaller fire Morrigan had started by their tent (she was still in the habit of being as far away from everyone as possible), and decided to study the room they were in. She padded away from the group, wearing only footwraps and a linen tunic that reached below her knees. She wandered to an isolated corner of the large room, and kneeled down to pray, but fell sort when it came to choosing the words she wanted to say. Even here, amongst holy scripture etched into the walls, and statuettes of the beloved Andraste adorning the hallways, words did not come to her. She stood with a sigh, and rested her head against the cool stone wall. The past few months had stirred something within Leliana; something akin to doubt. She couldn't put her finger on what it was that caused such a rift inside her. Was it Marjolaine? The Blight? The loss of the place she had called home when she desperately needed a place to stay, to reform, to find herself? Did she truly even find herself? Now that Morrigan was in her life, she was more confused than ever. There was no doubt in her mind that she was indeed falling for the witch, but she wondered what the cost of it would be. If there was one thing she learned early in life, it's that all good things must come with a price, and that price is often an unfittingly cruel end. But she was here, and she was moderately happy despite her inner conflict, and now was not the time to dwell. She had more important things ahead of her.   
It was the Maker's plan for her to be here, was it not? 

• • • 

Morning came far too quickly for Morrigan's liking. She woke up with a dead arm and Leliana's breath tickling her clavicle. She was surprised to find that the bard was still sleeping, but wiggled her way out from underneath her to allow her some more sleep. She hadn't been getting much at all, as of late. She rummaged through her rucksack and pulled on her usual robes, throwing a warm shawl over her shoulders. She was about to exit the tent when Leliana started whimpering in her sleep. Morrigan couldn't make out what she was saying, but she sat next to Leliana, and stroked her soft hair until the whimpering stopped and she fell into a deep sleep again. The witch felt a tug at her heart, and cursed at herself under her breath. This was insane, letting Leliana in the way she had. She was being cruel, both to herself and Leliana for allowing herself to indulge in this...this weakness. It was meant to be purely physical, but that flew out the window long ago. No, no. This had to be stopped before they came to the end of their journey - especially now that Morrigan had uncovered the reason why Flemeth sent her with the wardens in the first place. 

• • • 

They slew the beast in the early evening. The blood gushing out of the gash Cousland had made along its belly stained Morrigan's clothes and skin. The dragon fought well, but it eventually grew tired, overwhelmed, and Cousland used the opportunity she was given to end the fight.   
Morrigan watched from a distance as Wynne attended to the wounds the rest of the party had sustained. Nothing too major, but it was enough to significantly slow them down. Leliana approached Morrigan and sat next to her.   
"Are you injured?"  
"I am fine," Morrigan replied curtly.  
"Are you sure?"  
"Must you pester me with such questions when I have already given you an answer? Or was it not satisfactory?"   
"I just wanted to make sure you were fine, Morrigan, there's no need to be so rude."  
"'Tis not rude to desire to be left alone."   
"Fine, have it your way," Leliana walked away. 

When they all walked back to their camp to retire for the evening, Morrigan pulled Leliana aside.  
"I wish to sleep alone tonight."  
"What? Why? Have I done something wrong, Morrigan?"  
"No, 'tis not you. I... I wish to ask a question of you."   
"Of course, Morrigan."  
"I wish to know your opinion of 'love.'"  
"M-my opinion?" Leliana's heartbeat was drowning out everything but Morrigan's voice.  
"You and I have been intimate, for one. We have been...close...for some time now. You are...impressive in many ways, and you even comforted me and protected me from Flemeth without hope of reward. I feel anxious when I look upon you. I dislike this sense of dependency. 'Tis a weakness I abhor. If this is 'love' I wish to ascertain that you do not feel the same."   
"And if I...if I do love you?"   
"Then we are both fools, and we need to do something immediately. I have allowed myself to become...too close. This is a weakness, for us both."   
"Love is not a weakness, Morrigan. I have said that to you before."   
"You are not listening to me. Do not be such a fool. This is for your own good. I would not...I am not like other women. I am not worth your distraction. And you...you are not worth mine."   
"Is that what you think you are? A distraction? Unworthy? Lesser? Morrigan, you are none of those things. You are worthy of love, you deserve it, whether it is mine or someone else's," she cupped Morrigan's cheek. "You are enough, Morrigan."   
"I...you are impossible," she leaned into Leliana's hand before pulling away.  "Have it your way. But I will tell you truly now - you will regret it in the end."   
"Morrigan, what brought this all on?"  
"It...I simply do not wish to discuss it. Leave me be." Morrigan stalked over to her tent, leaving Leliana alone for the night. 

• • • 

Leliana could not sleep, so she relieved Alistair and Sten from their watch and sat by the fire to warm her toes. She pulled out her lute, and strummed a quiet, gentle melody to help put her mind at ease. She knew Morrigan was trying to navigate feelings she had not dealt with before, but it was still difficult to hear her say those things. She felt someone's eyes on her, and turned to see the very woman she had on her mind standing behind her.  
"It seems that I cannot sleep," she said. Leliana patted the ground beside her, and Morrigan sat. She listened to Leliana's strumming, and finally felt herself relax. That, of course, ended when Leliana asked if they could discuss what happened between them. "Ah. I am...not certain what to say," she shifted her weight. "I warned you, did I not? I told you that this was a weakness that was driving me mad. And yet, you insisted."   
"Why are you so frightened of this?"  
"I could ask you why you are not, seeing as you have been burned by love once before. As for myself? 'Tis all so...unexpected. I have no experience with any of it. And yet I find myself wanting it. Hungering for it," She looked at Leliana, who was watching her intently. "For you." She averted her gaze and stared at her feet. "That is not right, is it? That is not how a normal woman acts? I can see it in your eyes." She stood and looked down at the bard, a pleading look in her eyes. "Release me. Tell me that you wish to end this. Make me believe you and I...will be grateful." Leliana put her lute aside, and stood, gently taking Morrigan's hand in hers.   
"Morrigan... I don't, I don't want this to end," Leliana's voice cracked.   
"You miserable, selfish bastard. You will regret this, and so will I. And..perhaps that is how it must be."  
"I will never regret you, Morrigan. I will never regret what we have." She traced her fingers along Morrigan's jaw and stepped closer when the brunette's eyes shut. "Love is not weakness, Morrigan. You have made me stronger, even now, in some of my darkest moments, you have given me strength. I will never regret you."   
"I...you should not be so...you have no idea what will happen in the days to come to make such promises."   
"Things change rapidly, and they change often. The events of the coming weeks may test us, but I doubt they will change how I feel about you, Morrigan. I care for you dearly." Leliana pressed her forehead against Morrigan's. "The world gets lonely too quickly if there is no one to share it with." 

**Author's Note:**

> Morrigan's ring:  
> "This is a twisted loop of rosewood, the grain of which seems to shift and change from one moment to the next, taking on shapes reminiscent of animals and people."


End file.
